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artficlly · 3 months ago

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lessons in lovemaking [part two]

marvel au bucky x blackwidow!reader You and Bucky Barnes go undercover as a married couple, but when a fake kiss gets too real, he unexpectedly finishes in his pants—leaving you both stunned.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, dry humping, blindfolding, grinding, soft dom vibes reader, soft sub vibes bucky, bucky is touch starved, clothed ejaculation, vague mentions of previous sa, ex black widow reader, very consensual, safe words, kissing, bucky barnes needs a hug, if you squint, there's some plot, fluff, angst, bickering, reader is lowkey depressed, mentions of past violence, death and war, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8.6k

A/N: hey guys, i'm literally so nervous posting this... it's been sitting in my drafts for like a month now and i finally worked up the courage to post after spending a couple hours editing :( i'm literally scheduling this to post at like 3am my time so i'm not awake when it goes live i'm so anxious bahaha. the start of this part is a bit slow, pls hold on because theres some light smut and angst at the end. i have plans for further parts that'll look more into the other avengers finding out and the development between bucky and readers relationship and their shared healing. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

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It was only on rare occasions that the full team of Avengers (and co.) were in the same room. A momentous historical moment, in fact, normally reserved for two particular occasions:

The world was ending (in some gloriously diabolical way that usually involved aliens, interdimensional warlords, or some ancient, forgotten god with a vendetta) or

Tony Stark was throwing another one of his famously exclusive penthouse parties (which, despite being ‘exclusive,’ still managed to include half of New York—most of whom showed up just to gawk at the Avengers like a travelling circus act sent to entertain them personally.)

Today, it seemed, was neither of those occasions. Thor and the rest of the Asgardians—Bruce Banner included, oddly enough—were busy rebuilding after the destruction of Asgard. Wanda and Vision were off playing happy family elsewhere, and Clint was busy with his own quickly expanding family. The others, agents, specialists, the people whose names you never bothered to remember, were preoccupied with their own missions. Which left you here, filed neatly into the elusive extra category. Not quite an Avenger. Too valuable to be let loose, too unpredictable to be fully trusted.

You leant back in your chair, only half-listening to the conversation beside you. The skin around your thumbnail was raw. You picked at it absentmindedly, peeling back the edge where it had already started to flake, a sting flaring along the nail. You were thinking—too much, maybe—so you let them talk, let yourself disappear as they debated which bar had the strongest drinks and the least pathetic men.

The three of you were early. By some miracle, morning training had ended ahead of schedule. Natasha had wiped the floor with you, to the point where it probably would’ve been more productive to stay on the mat rather than waste your energy hauling yourself back up.

“What do you think?” It took you a second to realise Yelena was talking to you, elbows propped on the table, chin resting in her hand. She was watching you expectantly, sharp eyes narrowed.

You didn’t look up. “I’m not coming.”

She sighed dramatically. “You never hang out with us.” She leant back in her chair with an exaggerated huff, muttering under her breath, “So mysterious and cool. You think you’re better than us?”

Natasha watched on amused, the redhead poised as always. “She doesn’t want to drink in front of us in case she spills her secrets.”

You scoffed. “What secrets?”

“I don’t know.” Natasha leant forward, watching you a little too closely now, like she was gauging your reaction. “How about how that mission went with Barnes?”

Ever since the gala mission, the two had been trying to get you alone, a few drinks in, hoping for something—a slip, an offhanded remark, anything that would confirm whatever hunches they had. You knew what they were fishing for. They weren’t subtle.

You just weren’t playing.

Neither you nor Bucky had said a word about it.

That, apparently, was suspicious.

“She is right, you know. Neither of you will say a word about it. I’m beginning to think something happened—” Yelena cut over her sister with a grin.

“Nothing happened,” you interrupted smoothly, finally lifting your eyes from the wreckage of your thumbnail. “You keep asking, but you’re not going to uncover some dirty secret. Sorry to disappoint."

“Then why the silence? No one would care if you fucked him, you could just plead innocence, overcome by playing the perfect, doting wife—”

You shot her a look, one withering enough to turn bone to dust and ego to rubble.

“I mean… maybe people would care, but I wouldn’t judge you! Super soldier, metal arm… so hot, or whatever.” Yelena prattled on, and you ignored her, exhaling through your nose.

"I think he’s just mortified that people assume something did happen. He’s got enough brooding energy as it is." You muttered.

“I just don’t believe nothing happened, trapped in that hotel room together for a week. Apparently, you were convincing enough to keep the targets off your scent, and we all know Barnes’ acting is as stiff as a cadaver on ice—”

Your face twisted into a look of exasperation before you could control yourself, straightening in your seat. “God, you two really are like vultures, picking around for the slightest bit of gossip—”

“Wow, defensive—”

“Isn’t that the joy in life? Digging for gossip?” Natasha cut back in with a sharp smirk.

“You two are insufferable!” You interrupted, slapping your palms onto your thighs. "I think I’ll keep my secrets. I’ll leave the both of you to continue plotting this fantastical mystery you’ve created in your minds—”

“It’s only fun because you get so worked up about it,” Natasha cut back with a grin you could only describe as predatory. “Plus, I do love watching Rogers squirm listening to all the theories."

“You know,” Yelena mused, swirling the thought around before letting it slip, “I don’t think Steve is as innocent as we think he is. I’m pretty sure I heard him and Sharon—”

She cut herself off just as the door swung open, and the rest of the team filtered in.

You schooled your reaction, easily slipping back into the picture of nonchalance. Bucky’s blue eyes flickered towards yours for a split second before darting away. It had been two weeks since your first ‘lesson’. Two weeks of carefully measured distance, of subtle glances that never lasted too long, of conversations that stayed just professional enough to not raise questions.

Bucky had been doing well—shockingly well, actually. He was receptive to your touch, followed your guidance with careful precision, and was beginning to trust you, bit by bit. You hadn’t gone much further than heated make-out sessions that usually ended with him finishing in his pants, but you weren’t in a rush. You were still feeling out his comfort zones, making sure he never felt cornered or overwhelmed. There wasn’t exactly a handbook for this kind of arrangement.

You slumped in your seat even further, shaking off the feeling. It was fine. No one knew.

Still, the way Bucky avoided looking in your direction made something prickle under your skin.

You were certain the super soldier would combust on the spot if any of his coworkers caught wind of what the two of you had been up to. Hell, he turned red enough just having you perched in his lap during lessons, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. And yet, during meetings, training, or any moment the two of you were forced into the same orbit, you couldn’t help but wonder—did he think about those moments? Did his mind drift back to the ghost of your touch the same way yours did?

You weren’t usually the sentimental type. Nostalgia was a luxury, a foolish indulgence you had long since trained yourself out of. But there was something about him—his quiet hesitance, his wary but willing surrender—that stuck with you. It was a service, nothing more. A transaction in which you gained no tangible benefit, so why did you linger on it? Why did the thought of his gaze meeting yours send a sharp thrill through your chest? Was it because he treated you like a person instead of a tool? Because he understood pieces of you no one else even tried to?

He wasn’t like the others. Never cruel, never greedy. He never reached for more than you offered, never treated you like something to be taken. Maybe that was why you kept coming back. Maybe, for once, you liked the control. Liked the feeling of choosing, of being wanted on your own terms. Of knowing that, for once, you weren’t a marionette dancing on someone else’s strings.

You swallowed the thought down and let your gaze flicker to him. Bucky sat curled in on himself, as if trying to shrink into nothing despite the broadness of his frame. He looked like a wounded animal—no, worse. He looked exhausted. The dark circles beneath his eyes had deepened, his hair unwashed and slightly greasy at the roots. He wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t taking care of himself. You didn’t need to be a genius to figure that out.

He stared blankly at the grain of the wooden table, shoulders hunched between Steve and Sam, who were deep in conversation about something you didn’t care enough to eavesdrop on. And for reasons you weren’t ready to name, that quiet, hollow stillness of his sat uneasily in your chest.

You had… concerns for Bucky after what he had confessed to you. But you weren’t sure what to do with those concerns. Or those confessions. You held them close to your chest, unwilling to betray his trust, but understanding instead. You knew it was probably irresponsible of you to sit on them, but you didn’t want to overstep. Besides, Steve and Sam didn’t know you. You’d had maybe three conversations with each of them, most of them mission-related. To them, you were just Natasha and Yelena’s friend—Red Room collateral. You weren’t social, you weren’t a part of their circle, and you sure as hell weren’t someone they trusted.

And if they knew about your arrangement with Bucky… well, you didn’t want to think about what conclusions they’d draw—

“Hi!”

The sudden, chirpy voice nearly startled you out of your seat.

Kate Bishop had arrived—loud, bright, and effortlessly excitable, like a golden retriever in human form. She had that kind of energy that made you suspicious. No one was that happy all the time. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, messy strands framing her face. She was dressed in casual, slightly dishevelled layers, looking like she had just come from sparring but didn’t have the same dead-in-the-eyes exhaustion you did after a training session.

“I’m Kate!” she announced, beaming at you like you were about to be best friends. She pushed her hand out. “Kate Bishop.”

You blinked at her, ignoring her outstretched offer. “I know.”

Her grin didn’t waver, and she coolly withdrew her hand.

“You’re Clint and Yelena’s pet project.” You spoke again, your tone perhaps a little more hostile than necessary.

“It’s apprentice, actually.” Yelena cut in before Kate could argue. “You know, you’re starting to hurt my feelings. Stark has an apprentice, so why are you always giving me shit—”

“Oh yes, Stark’s pet project.” You gave an exaggerated sigh. “What was his name? Paxton, Peyton, or was it Parker?”

“Did I ask for your opinion, K.G.B. Barbie?” Tony Stark’s voice cut in lazily as he walked past, sitting at the head of the table like he owned the place—which, unfortunately for you, he did. As usual, he didn’t look pleased to see you, and the scent of entitlement wafted off of him in waves.

You met his gaze evenly. "No, but I was under the impression that unsolicited opinions were your love language, considering the amount your hand out.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Remind me why we let you sit at the big kids’ table again?”

"You don’t." You glanced at Stark, unimpressed. "But I was invited, shockingly enough. Or are you reckless enough to ignore Fury’s instructions now?"

There it was. That smirk. He smirked at you, and you knew in your heart he had the foulest, most cutting rebuke to lay upon you. He hadn’t even opened his mouth, and you were already grinding your teeth in frustration as you stared back at him, eyes locked onto his smug face—

Kate cleared her throat, stepping in before you and Stark could escalate any further. “So, what do you do?”

Stark held his tongue, so in return, you slid your gaze back over to a nervous Kate. And in that moment, you knew you couldn’t help yourself. Natasha had already shot you a warning look, but the redhead's trained patience for the playboy Stark had unfortunately never extended to you.

"Infiltration, espionage, recon." You shrugged, expression carefully neutral. "I gather information, and then the big boys get to swoop in, throw a few punches, and take all the credit. Isn’t that right, Stark?"

Maybe you had woken up grouchier than usual—not that you could even call the few hours of restless tossing and turning sleep. Or perhaps it was the fact that you’d spent the morning eating the training mat, then had to suffer through Natasha and Yelena’s constant interrogations that had soured your mood. Either way, you weren’t exactly in the best headspace to deal with him.

Truthfully, you thought Stark was a prick, and unfortunately, you had never been exactly shy about that opinion. You and Stark had just never really clicked. Not in the way he had with the others, not in the way Natasha had seamlessly folded herself into the team, or the way Yelena had bulldozed her way in, loud and brash. You existed somewhere in between, tolerated but always lingering on the outside. It wasn’t that you didn’t get along with them. You could banter with Sam, hold an easy conversation with Steve when necessary and trade dry humour with Clint in a way that made you feel almost at home. Even Stark, for all his grating personality, wasn’t always intolerable. But there was always something between you and them—an unspoken distance, a careful line you never crossed. They didn’t entirely trust you yet, and you never gave them a reason to try.

Not because you didn’t want to.

But because trust had never been a luxury you could afford.

Your job was reading people—analysing, dissecting, and manipulating. You understood them better than they understood themselves, saw the cracks in their foundations and knew precisely where to apply pressure. It made you valuable. Indispensable even, but it also made people wary. The team knew what you were, even if they didn’t know the full extent of what you had been. But deep down, you knew they were smart enough to assemble the pieces.

So you kept yourself at arm’s length. You wanted to believe you could have that feeling—belonging. But wanting and trusting were two very different things that you did not dare confuse.

Kate’s eyes lit up. “That’s so cool.”

“That’s a polite way of putting it,” Stark interjected, leaning against the desk. “She’s just a pretty face we send in to distract while the rest of us do the actual work.”

There it was.

Your jaw clenched, but you didn’t rise to the bait. This was your hubris. You could already hear Natasha’s scolding—You really shouldn’t egg him on like that. The two of you are as bad as each other, always trying to get under each other's skin. A bunch of alleycats fighting it’s ridiculous—

Somewhere across the table, Bucky’s eyes had shot up. The movement startled you, and your eyes met briefly. It was milliseconds, maybe not even that, but as soon as you registered your brief exchange, Bucky shied away like a spooked animal.

And when you looked back at Kate, Natasha and Yelena, you found that Natasha had been watching the whole thing. She didn’t speak, didn’t even react. There wasn’t the slightest twitch in her brow or twinge in her lips. She stared like some kind of omnipotent god, and deep down, you knew. You knew she knew.

Maybe she didn’t know the full extent, but the way she stared… it made you shudder.

Fuck.

Kate, however, frowned, turning back to you. “That’s not true, right?”

“Of course not,” you deadpanned, not letting the dread pooling in your stomach let you miss a beat. “I do much more than look pretty. Sometimes I get to torture people—”

Kate’s face pale, then through several stages of grief, trying to figure out if you were joking.

You weren’t about to help her.

“Relax, Kate Bishop, she is messing with you,” Yelena said with an amused grin, though it was tight. A silent warning behind her eyes told you to keep your mouth shut.

Kate still looked mildly concerned, but she shook it off quickly. “Okay, but—so you can fight?”

“Of course.”

“Not as well as me,” Yelena cut in before you could elaborate, grinning smugly. “Don’t worry, Kate. You’re being trained by the best of the best. Me? I am the best. You know this.”

You rolled your eyes, and Kate beamed. That girl was too fucking cute for her own good.

The door swung open before anyone could respond to Yelena. Fury stepped inside, long coat sweeping behind him, his boots heavy against the floor. His usual expression—somewhere between perpetually pissed off and quietly judgmental—was firmly in place beneath the shadow of his eyepatch.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Fury said, his voice edged with dry amusement, though his gaze flicked between you all with razor-sharp scrutiny.

"No, sir," Steve said, back straightening. Natasha, ever composed, merely leaned back in her chair. Stark didn’t even spare a glance.

“First off, I’d like to extend my deepest, most heartfelt gratitude for your attendance,” Fury began, spreading his arms in a broad, insincere gesture, his tone so dry it could have turned the room to dust. “I know how much of a hardship it is, taking an hour out of your busy lives to sit in a comfortable chair and listen to me talk.”

Sam snorted. Yelena smirked. Bucky, as usual, remained unreadable.

Fury’s eye landed on you and Bucky before he tossed a slim tablet onto the table, the display already flashing with the text of a mission report you hardly cared to examine in detail.

“Congratulations are in order. The gala infiltration went exceptionally well despite the odds stacked against you.”

You dipped your head in acknowledgement, catching movement out of the corner of your eye—Sam begrudgingly sliding Fury what seemed to be a twenty-dollar bill. Asshole.

Fury tapped the screen embedded in the table, replacing the mission debrief with a new set of images. An aerial view of a club, snippets of surveillance footage, a grainy close-up of a man slipping out of a side entrance, bodyguards in tow.

“And thanks to that intel recovered,” Fury continued, “we now have a location on our next target. Dmitry Karpin. Friend to H.Y.D.R.A. Dealt in smuggling high-profile weapons in and out of Soviet countries for a time, but now he’s taken to smuggling drugs. Serums, to be specific.”

Across the table, Bucky had gone still. Tension coiled in his shoulders, his hands resting stiffly on the surface, knuckles taut. H.Y.D.R.A. Serum. The words alone were enough to suffocate the room when Bucky or Steve were around. You didn’t let your eyes linger on him long nor allow your frown to deepen.

Fury didn’t acknowledge the shift—maybe he was used to it by now, or perhaps he just didn’t care. His voice remained steady, rolling over the tension in the room as if he were reciting lines from a well-rehearsed script. Karpin’s security detail. The club’s weak points. Entry and exit strategies. The words blurred together, dissolving into background noise beneath the low hum of static in your head. It was hard to focus when you could feel Bucky sitting across from you, motionless, barely even breathing, his whole body locked up like a loaded fucking gun. And the worst part? He probably thought he was doing a good job hiding it.

You didn’t stare, didn’t let your concern show. Instead, you leant back in your chair, tilting your head just enough to feign disinterest. “So, just another fun-filled evening of chatting up sweaty old men for me? Sounds like a dream.” Your voice came out dry, with just enough sarcasm to mask any wobbles.

Fury didn’t spare you a glance. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” he said, tapping the screen again. More grainy footage. More blueprints. The details kept coming, but you barely registered them.

You picked at your thumbnail hard enough that the cuticle began to bleed.

Eventually, the meeting drew to a close. Chairs scraped against the floor as the team rose, murmuring amongst themselves as they filed out. You stood, ready to follow, but—

“You two, stick around,” Fury instructed.

You hesitated, glancing at him, then at Bucky, who had also stalled mid-step. Natasha and Yelena exchanged a knowing look, their amusement not at all subtle. You ignored their barely concealed grins as they disappeared through the door.

Fury exhaled, hands bracing against the table as he surveyed the two of you.

“I’ll be honest,” he said finally. “I wasn’t convinced it would work when I paired you two. Thought maybe you’d kill each other before you got anything done.”

Bucky scoffed quietly, gaze flicking away.

“But you proved me wrong.” His good eye narrowed as he continued. “The mission was a success. You handled yourselves well.”

A beat of silence. Then, just as flatly, “I want to know if you’d be open to working together again. Similar style of operation.”

Your eyes slid over to Bucky, gauging his reaction. You didn’t want to appear too eager or give any more credence to the stories Yelena and Natasha were spinning, but most of all, you didn’t want to put words into Bucky’s mouth. You weren’t in the business of pressuring him in or out of the bedroom.

Bucky was quiet as if silently working through some thoughts before deciding. Finally, he offered a dismissive “Sure.”

You nodded slowly, offering Fury a nonchalant shrug. “I’m fine with that.”

Fury’s lips twitched. Not quite a smirk.

“Well, that’s the most enthusiasm I’ve heard all day,” he deadpanned before shaking his head. “Damn, you two are depressing. Sitting there all broody, staring at me like I shot your goddamn dog.”

Neither you nor Bucky reacted, which was met by a low chuckle from Fury. “Regardless, I appreciate the hard work. You made me a nice chunk of money winning some bets.”

Your brow furrowed. “You bet on us?”

Fury raised an eyebrow, unbothered. “Course I did. Had to make it interesting. Half the team thought you’d get caught or kill each other before the first day was up.”

You blinked. “...Who bet against us?”

“Stark.” Fury’s lips twitched again. “He didn’t think you’d make it past security.”

Of course he did. Prick.

—

"Alright, I’m in position."

You blinked. Bucky sat there like he was awaiting orders, his posture rigid as if he were about to breach enemy lines. His hands hovered awkwardly at his sides, fingers twitching like he wasn’t sure where to put them like touching you required the same level of strategic planning as a high-stakes extraction mission.

You stared, straddling his hips, your fingers ghosting over his collarbone, feeling the tension thrumming beneath his skin. He didn’t quite meet your eyes, his gaze fixed somewhere just past your shoulder as if making direct contact might detonate something neither of you were ready for. For a split second, you half expected him to press a finger to an earpiece and murmur something about securing the perimeter.

In the dim glow of his bedroom, he looked every bit like a man being held hostage rather than one about to receive a very generous favour.

Lately… something felt off. The signs had been subtle at first, the way he always seemed a beat too calculated, his hands found the same places every time, and he would grow still like he was waiting for a command.

And now, looking at him, so wound-up he might actually vibrate, it finally clicked.

Every touch and kiss was executed with the precision of a soldier running a drill rather than a man lost in the moment. It was methodical. He was analysing a strategy rather than experiencing pleasure. You half expected to glance down and see him taking notes—touch here, kiss there, don’t forget to do this. The thought horrified you, but if you were honest… it also amused you.

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“…Bucky, are you seriously treating this like a mission?”

He stiffened beneath you, his reaction just a fraction too quick, too defensive.

“What’d you mean?” His voice was steady, but there was an edge. He was already on guard, bracing for imaginary discipline.

“The way you’re…” You trailed off, head inclining as you studied him. His jaw was clenched, brows drawn tight, the creased skin between them betraying him entirely. One could mistake him for a soldier behind enemy lines, waiting for the crack of a rifle. There were dark smudges under his eyes, no worse than usual. You knew he didn’t sleep well. Nightmares haunted him and left him running on fumes more often than not. You recognised the signs, and it was like you were looking into a mirror.

“It’s like you have a mental checklist,” you murmured, watching for his reaction. “Like every move you make is planned like you’re running through a strategy in your head instead of just… feeling it.”

Bucky remained silent, his lips pressing into a firm line.

Gently, you squeezed his shoulder, fingertips pressing into hard muscle. He was tense—too tense. “You’re not clearing a building, Bucky. You’re not scanning for threats. You’re here with me. Just relax a little, won’t you?”

“I am relaxed.” He bit the words out, though neither his voice nor expression were even remotely convincing.

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “I appreciate the attempt to lie, but when I can feel the fucking tension in your body, it’s a little, well, very obvious.” Your hands traced along his shoulders, fingers kneading into the tight knots beneath the fabric of his shirt. His muscles were rock-solid, never fully uncoiled. His body had forgotten how to rest.

“See?” You gave a pointed squeeze. “This is not ‘relaxed,’ Bucky. This is as solid as a goddamn steel beam.”

Bucky scoffed a tiny huff of air through his nose. “Those are my muscles. I work out. Don’t you?”

You gasped in mock delight, lips parting in exaggerated shock. “Oh my God. Did you just make a joke? Bucky, was that a joke?”

Something flickered in his expression for the first time, a sliver of amusement breaking through the ever-present brooding. He finally met your gaze, eyes crinkling just slightly at the corners, and the sight sent a flicker of warmth through your chest.

You grinned. “Well, isn’t that a first? Guess I should mark the calendar.”

His smirk was brief, fleeting—but it was there.

You softened, your voice dropping just a little. “But seriously, you need to loosen up.” Your hands smoothed over his shoulders, slow and deliberate.“Attraction, desire… sex. It’s messy, it’s unplanned. It’s not a mission. This isn’t the army.”

You didn’t dare say the following words in your mind aloud.

This isn’t H.Y.D.R.A.

But you knew that was where his thoughts drifted, that unspoken trouble that plagued you both. Your fingers ghosted along the silver chain at his throat, the faint jingle of his dog tags barely audible under the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t have to follow orders. You can just be.”

“I know.” The words came low, rough, frayed at the edges. You could feel yourself losing him, his eyes growing foggy as if pulled away to a place you couldn’t quite reach to drag him out from.

“I just…” Another breath, deeper this time, as though steadying himself. “They used me. For so long, they used me as a weapon. I don’t know if I can ever be anything different than that. I don’t want to lose control—what happens if I lose—”

“Hey.” Your hands framed his face now, thumbs brushing against the sharp angles of his cheekbones, anchoring him. “Hey, look at me.”

His eyes lifted, hesitant, guarded.

“You are more than that.” The words were gentle but unwavering, as steady as your hands on him. “We are more than that, okay? You’re Bucky. Just Bucky. And you are in control. Say it.”

His fingers curled against your thighs, knuckles pressing into the cotton fabric of your shorts. He was quiet momentarily as though testing the words in his mind before speaking them aloud. Then, slowly, he nodded.

“I’m in control.”

“You’re in control.” You echoed, smoothing your thumb over the faint stubble on his cheek. “And you still want to do this?”

His breath was slow, deliberate. “Yes.”

Your fingers had drifted higher, threading into his hair, the strands silky and cool beneath your touch. You swept a loose lock from his forehead, letting your fingertips linger against his temple. “And if you don’t want this at any point, what do you say?”

“Stop.”

“And what will happen if you say that?”

“You’ll stop. We’ll stop.”

“Good.” You praised him, your smile widening as you felt him squirm beneath you. There was a subtle hitch in his breath as your hands began to trail lower, palms smoothing down to his chest. The pulse at his throat fluttered beneath your fingertips, quick and uneven, betraying the calm he was trying to hold onto. You leant closer, your breath warm against his skin as you pressed a slow, lingering kiss to his temple. Then lower—to the sharp line of his cheekbone, the edge of his jaw, and finally to the hollow of his throat. A shudder ran through him, his grip on your hips tightening just a fraction. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” He uttered after a thick, audible swallow.

You pulled back just enough to study him, to see how his lips parted slightly as though chasing the warmth of your touch. A quiet, almost reluctant noise rumbled in his chest, just shy of a whine. You traced your fingers along his jaw before tilting your head, considering him. “I want to try something.” You hummed to him. “You can say no if it’s too much, but I think it might help you.”

His brows furrowed. “Yeah?”

“I want to blindfold you—”

“You want to what?” He went rigid beneath you, every muscle tightening again as if you’d flipped a switch and snapped him back into defence mode.

“Hold on, just let me finish.” You held up your hand, hoping to counteract his immediate, instinctive reaction.

He huffed, rolling his shoulders as though shaking off the response, but said nothing.

“I want to blindfold you,” you repeated, slower this time, words deliberate. “And I want to kiss you. And touch you. I want you to focus on feeling good rather than anticipating something bad. I want you to just… be here with me. Not thinking about what comes next, not waiting for an attack. Just focusing on feeling. That’s all.”

His expression was cautious before turning to contemplation—as though weighing the idea against everything instinct told him.

“You can say no,” you reminded him gently.

“No, I—” He hesitated, his fingers twitching against your hips.

You shifted back just a little, offering him the space to decide. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do it.”

“No, I—shit—” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I mean—no, I want to. Yes. I want to try that.”

Your gaze searched his. “You’re sure?”

His lips pressed together, and then he nodded once, firmly. “Yes.”

You grinned, pressing a sloppy, lingering kiss to his temple before slipping off his lap with ease and rolling onto the bed beside him. “Do you have something we could use?”

“Uh, I don’t—”

“Like a tie, maybe? You wear suits, right? Or does Stark demand them back the second you step foot in the compound?”

Bucky let out a huff, eyes narrowing. “I don’t want to talk about Stark right now.”

You shot him a knowing look, but before you could tease him further, your gaze flickered downward—and you smirked. Even through the soft material of his sweatpants, you could see he was already half-hard. “Sure.”

A faint flush crept up his neck, staining his ears and cheeks pink. He cleared his throat, voice rough. “Top drawer. In the wardrobe.”

You were on your feet before he could finish, slipping into his walk-in wardrobe. Every apartment in the compound had one, though Bucky’s was noticeably bare. His clothes were monochrome, muted shades of grey, navy, and black. No bursts of colour. No sign of impulse. It was not a lack of wealth. You knew that for sure. No, this was intentional—a desire to blend in, to disappear.

You’d always known he was the type who preferred the shadows, slipping between crowds unnoticed. No wonder he hated the tailored suits Stark and Fury forced him into—arm issues aside. For some reason, S.H.I.E.L.D. were determined to parade him around. Look, the Winter Soldier. He’s a good boy now. He plays nice. Nothing to fear anymore. You were unsure how he felt about such displays, but you were sure it wasn’t too far off from how you felt about it. You had once been in his shoes, though more in the eye candy territory. A doll to dress up and play with, to smile and play the part.

Powerful men enjoyed degrading that which they knew to be dangerous, enjoyed playing with fire, and enjoyed the illusion of control.

Shaking off the thought, you pulled open the top drawer, sifting through a few neatly folded ties. You selected a smooth black silk, running the cool fabric over your palm before returning to the bedroom.

Bucky was still seated at the edge of the bed, stiff as a board. His hands curled into fists atop his thighs, knuckles taut. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

You slowed, holding the tie between your fingers like approaching a spooked animal. Visible to inspect and assess. No threat.

“Yes?” you asked, giving him another chance to change his mind.

His jaw tightened, but he gave a short nod. “Yes.”

You smiled softly. “Just breathe, yeah? Like we always do.” You inhaled deeply through your nose, then exhaled slowly and steadily through your mouth.

After a beat, Bucky mirrored you, chest rising and falling with measured breaths.

You moved behind him, settling onto the bed. He sat still, poised for an attack. Carefully, you draped the silk tie over his eyes, looping it around his head and securing it with a loose knot. It wasn’t tight—one purposeful tug and it would slip free.

You could feel the tension radiating from him. Even blindfolded, he was hyper-aware, attuned to every rustle of the sheets, every shift of your weight. His breathing had turned shallower, the serum sharpening every sound, every sensation.

“If you need to stop for any reason, just say so.”

He jolted slightly at your voice, caught off guard in the quiet. “O-okay.” His voice wavered, and then he cursed low under his breath in Russian.

You grinned. Some habits died hard.

“I’m going to touch you now.” You crept closer, lifting onto your knees behind him. “Just focus on me and how it feels. Nothing else. Can you do that?”

He gave a slow, hesitant nod.

You started at his shoulders, palms skimming over firm muscle, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. Every dip and ridge, every knot of tension. Your hands slid to his collarbone, then across the joint where flesh met metal, mapping out the contrast between warm skin and the smooth, cold vibranium.

He was solid beneath your touch, every muscle taut and solid as it stretched across the bone.

You had noticed the way his shoulders gave him grief. The slight tilt of his frame and the way his left arm always sat heavier. It was incorrect weight distribution; the metal limb was too heavy compared to its flesh counterpart. S.H.I.E.L.D had surely offered him physical therapy—massages, treatment plans—but you doubted he had ever taken them up on it. He didn’t like to be touched by strangers. Too wary. Too untrusting.

“Can I take off your shirt?” you asked softly.

He stilled.

“I don’t—” His voice was lower now, rougher. “My scars. They’re not—”

“I don’t care about that.”

He swallowed hard. “You don’t?”

“No,” you said firmly. “Why would I?”

Without a word, his hand reached behind his head, gripping the collar of his shirt. He yanked it over his head in one fluid motion, tossing the fabric to the floor. You adjusted the blindfold where it had shifted, then let your gaze drift over the broad expanse of his back.

His shoulders were massive, sculpted with muscle. The scars on his left shoulder were brutal—jagged lines of gnarled tissue where the vibranium met flesh. It might have been seamless after the amputation. Painless even. But it had been H.Y.D.R.A who had ruined him, left scars so deep even the Wakandans couldn’t erase.

And H.Y.D.R.A didn’t care for comfort. They cared for necessity. Likely, you suspected, they had wanted him to suffer.

An endless reminder of their ownership.

You swallowed, then placed your hands on his shoulders again, thumbs pressing gently into the base of his neck. You started slow, careful, massaging along the muscle, working your way down. His skin was warm beneath your palms, the mass taut and unyielding at first, like stone beneath your fingers. But you took your time, applying gradual pressure, thumbs circling into the knots built over time.

Beneath your hands, Bucky let out a low, guttural sound—a half-growl, half-sigh of approval. His head dipped forward slightly, chin brushing his chest, an unspoken invitation to continue.

You kept going, kneading deep into the knots in his shoulders, feeling the tension resist before you coaxed it loose. With each press and roll of your fingers, the stiffness unravelled like a cord being undone, thread by thread. You worked methodically, digging your thumbs along the curve where his neck met his shoulders, pressing firmly enough to elicit another low, unconscious groan from him.

You bit back a smile as you felt him lean into you just a little.

Trailing downward, you traced the slope of his shoulder blades, following the ridges of tendons and old wounds. The scars on his left side were tougher, the tissue uneven where flesh met metal, but you didn’t hesitate. Your fingers brushed the seam between the vibranium and skin, then continued downward, thumbs pressing slow, firm circles along the fuse.

Bucky shuddered.

His breath hitched as you dug into the deep-seated strain along his spine. A sharp inhale, a low exhale—he was losing himself to the sensation, surrendering to your touch. You didn’t rush. You worked him slowly, thoroughly, feeling him yield with each measured stroke. When you reached the dip of his lower back, you flattened your hands, smoothing over the tightness that lingered. He was warm now, his skin melting like wax beneath your fingers.

Satisfied, you finally pulled back, smoothing your hands along his spine one last time before shifting your position.

Rising onto your knees, you moved around him, hands trailing over his shoulders as you slid into his lap. His breath stuttered, but he didn’t pull away. You settled against him, straddling his lap, your arms draping lazily over his shoulders. The blindfold was still secure, and he looked… calmer now. Less wound up, his jaw no longer locked so tightly.

“You okay?” You murmured.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Good,” you hummed, tilting your head, lips just inches from his ear. “I think you needed that.”

Bucky exhaled a breathy, almost disbelieving laugh, but he didn’t deny it.

Your fingers trailed up the nape of his neck, nails scratching lightly against the short hairs, and you felt him shiver beneath you. You leaned in, lips brushing over his cheekbone, just at the edge of the blindfold, before trailing downward. You kissed along his jaw, soft and teasing, pressing your lips into the warm skin beneath his ear, down the column of his throat.

His hands fidgeted at his sides, tightening around the sheets. Then, as if giving in to some internal battle, they rose—hesitant but desperate. His fingers found your waist, sliding over the curve of your hips before gripping tight.

You grinned against his skin.

“There you go,” you murmured, voice a breath of silk against his throat.

A sharp exhale left him, his fingers tightening, pressing you closer, holding you in place. You cupped his jaw, tilting his face up before pressing your lips to his.

Bucky groaned into the kiss.

It was soft at first, your mouth moving against his, teasing, coaxing him deeper. But it wasn’t long before he cracked. The tension he had held onto for so long—his control, his restraint—it frayed at the edges with every pass of your lips against his. You pressed closer, shifting in his lap, and the moment your hips rolled against him, his breath stuttered.

A broken sound escaped him, part groan, part whimper.

You did it again just to hear it.

His hands flexed against your sides, his hold firm, frantic, but he didn’t stop you. He only breathed harder, his forehead falling against yours as you peppered kisses along his lips, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

Then you moved again, grinding against him slowly, carefully, and Bucky outright whimpered.

He made no effort to stop you—no attempt to control the rhythm, no resistance left in him. His mind was no longer caught in the tangle of right and wrong, of what he should or shouldn’t do.

He only felt.

Only responded.

You kissed him again, deeper, fiercer this time, and he met you with equal hunger.

Bucky’s hands roamed, sliding up your back. Then, his vibranium hand found your face, cradling it between cool, unyielding metal, and you shivered at the contrast—the bite of cold against your flushed skin, the sheer strength in his hold, barely restrained.

He kissed you like he was starving.

You sighed into his mouth, rolling your hips down to meet his, and he groaned—deep and guttural as his body jerked beneath you. He was fully hard now, the evidence pressing against you through his sweatpants, and you couldn't help the soft, breathy giggle that escaped between kisses.

Bucky growled, his grip tightening, his body chasing yours as you rocked against him.

Your hand trailed down, slipping between your bodies, fingers teasing along the waistband of his sweatpants. You could feel the heat of him, the way his breath hitched as your fingertips ghosted lower—

Then he flinched, catching your wrist in a shaky grip.

“Too much,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper, but the strain was evident.

Immediately, you withdrew, pulling your hand away without hesitation. “I’m sorry. Do you want to stop—”

“No.” he replied quickly, breathlessly.

You cupped his jaw, kissing him slowly, tenderly, as he shuddered beneath you. His hands flexed where they held you, his body still trembling with need, but he didn’t pull away. You kept your movements soft and gentle, pressing your forehead against his, letting him breathe as you kissed him repeatedly.

“Is this better?” you checked in between kisses, voice warm, reassuring.

“Yes.” He muttered against your lips.

You kissed him deeper, tongue sweeping across his bottom lip and into his mouth.

His body convulsed beneath you, hips twitching up to meet yours, his breath turning shallow and erratic. You could feel the tremors coursing through him, his muscles tensed, his restraint crumbling with every slow, dragging roll of your hips.

Then, with a choked groan, he stiffened.

A broken moan tore from his throat as he came, his body shuddering beneath you. His breath hitched, then stilled, his head falling back onto the bed as he panted heavily, completely spent.

You smiled, watching his chest rise and fall, his body finally wholly relaxed.

You let him catch his breath, your hands smoothing over his chest in slow, soothing strokes. His eyes were still covered, the black silk of the tie snug against his skin, and for a moment, you just watched him—his expression relaxed in a way it so rarely was, his lips parted as he inhaled deep, steadying himself.

Reaching up, you brushed your fingers over his jaw before carefully undoing the knot at the back of his head. The tie slipped away with ease, and his eyes fluttered open, blinking as he adjusted to the room's dim light. His pupils were blown, irises hazy, but there was something else. Softness. An openness you didn’t often see.

“Hey,” you whispered.

His lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. “Hey.”

You leant down, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple before shifting off of him, allowing him to breathe. He hesitated momentarily before sitting up, his movements slow, almost reluctant. His sweatpants were clinging damply to his skin, and he grimaced slightly before rubbing a hand over his face.

“I should, uh—” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, watching as he climbed off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. The soft sound of running water followed soon after. You stayed where you were, fingers idly playing with the silk tie as you listened, giving him the space to clean up and gather himself.

When he returned, his sweatpants had been swapped for a fresh pair, the fabric hanging loose around his hips. His hair was damp in uneven patches where he’d raked wet fingers through it, a lazy attempt at tidying up. He lingered in the doorway, weight shifting from one foot to the other, eyes flickering over you like he wasn’t sure what to do next.

You patted the empty space beside you. “Come here.”

His shoulders loosened just a fraction before he climbed back onto the bed, settling beside you with a quiet sigh. He was warm—solid and steady. Without thinking, you nestled closer, resting your head against his chest. His arm came around you automatically, like muscle memory, pulling you in and holding you there.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

Then, barely above a whisper, you asked, “Did you like it?”

Bucky exhaled a deep, slow breath. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice lower than usual, like he wasn’t used to saying it. “I did.”

You smiled, tracing absentminded circles against his chest. “What did you like about it?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. When he finally spoke, his voice was careful.

“It made it easier,” he murmured. “Not seeing. I could just… feel. Focus on what was happening instead of everything else.” His thumb brushed lightly against your side. “Didn’t have to worry about if I was doing something wrong.”

You frowned slightly, tilting your head up to look at him. “Bucky, you’ve never done anything wrong.”

“I know,” he said, but his voice was tight, a shadow crossing his expression. “It’s just—” He stopped, mouth pressing into a thin line.

You reached up, smoothing a hand over his cheek. “Talk to me.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Then, so quietly you almost missed it, he said, “I’m scared of it sometimes.”

Your brows furrowed. “Scared of what?”

“Pleasure.”

His fingers tightened slightly against your side like he was bracing himself, but he didn’t look away from you.

“I was taught…” He inhaled sharply. “That it could only be taken. Taken from me. That it was never given freely.” His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. “That it wasn’t mine to have.”

Slowly, carefully, you sat up, shifting so you were fully facing him. He looked at you, expression guarded, but there was something vulnerable beneath it, something fragile in the way he held himself.

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. “Those people, the ones who taught you that, they were trying to hurt you, degrade you,” you told him firmly. “Pleasure is to be shared equally. It’s something you deserve.” You squeezed his hand, your voice softening.

His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

“I want you to know that you don’t have to do anything to earn it,” you whispered.

He swallowed hard, his grip on your hand tightening. His voice was barely above a breath when he said, “I don’t know if I know how.”

You smiled softly. “That’s okay. We have time.”

You lifted his hand again, pressing a lingering kiss to his knuckles before settling back down beside him. His warmth seeped into you, but the ache in your chest remained—persistent, lingering. It had nothing to do with exhaustion, the tension in your muscles, or even the way your body still hummed with remnants of touch. No, this ache came from somewhere deeper, from the thoughts unravelling in your mind like a loose thread tugged too far, too fast as you contemplated his confession.

You had always been a giver. That was your role, your purpose. You gave and gave until there was nothing left. Until you were hollow inside. And yet, the world kept asking for more. You wondered if, over time, it had chipped away at your soul, piece by piece, until there was nothing left.

The words left your lips before you could stop them, before you had the chance to weigh whether you truly wanted to say them aloud.

“Do you ever feel like you’re not… whole?”

Bucky turned his head slightly, his brows furrowing in the low light, lids heavy as he blinked his dark lashes. He didn’t press or demand, didn’t look at you as if he needed clarification. He just waited, silently, like he knew you weren’t finished.

So you kept going.

“Like with every mission, every fight, every demand, you lose something? A tiny piece of yourself, given away without even realising it?” Your voice dropped lower. Bucky was still beside you, completely still, only his breath tickling your cheek with each slow rise and fall of his chest.

“I don’t even know if I’m still the person I was when I was born or if I’ve just been rebuilt from borrowed parts. Pieces given to me, made for me, shaped to fit what I was supposed to become.” You exhaled a sharp breath. “Or maybe… what they wanted me to become.”

The words were bitter on your tongue, and yet they kept coming.

“And I think… maybe I’m afraid that if I ever showed the real me, the world would reject me. That they’d be disgusted by my soul. By everything I have done.”

A shaky breath left your lips, your voice barely more than a whisper now.

“Because sometimes… sometimes I think the only way people will keep me around is if I give them something in return.”

Silence.

You turned your head toward him, searching his face, waiting for something—anything—that would tell you what he was thinking. You hoped for a look, a breath, a word to ground you. But as your gaze swept over him, you realised his breathing had evened out, his lashes fluttering softly against his cheeks. The sharp furrow of his brow had smoothed, his lips slightly parted in a way that spoke of exhaustion finally pulling him under.

Asleep.

Your words had been lost to him.

You weren’t sure if that was a relief or a disappointment.

Maybe it was for the best. He needed the rest, the peace of slumber more than you did. Even now, in the soft glow of the room, dark circles remained etched beneath his eyes.

You let out a slow breath, staring at the ceiling momentarily before carefully slipping out of bed. You moved with quiet precision, gathering your things without making a sound. When you reached the door, you hesitated, glancing back.

For a second, a small, selfish part of you wished he had—wished he had heard you, had held you, had given you something, anything, to quiet the storm inside your chest. But he hadn’t.

And maybe that meant you could take the words back.

Tuck them away for another time.

Or hold onto them forever, maybe all you had needed was to say them aloud, even if only silence itself was listening.

Bucky didn’t stir from his slumber, not even when the door clicked shut behind you.

PART THREE

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taglist: @civilbucky @buckysbbydoll @rosegarbage @fleurenoir @oikarma @blackstabbath6 @kcbug1128 @ellesbellswrites @thaynarajejheje @wunder-blunder @oceanaroma @dyscalculiaaa @murdocklvrr @pursuedbyamemoryy @fantasyheroine @chronicallybubbly @nikkinss @maryevm @doilooklikeagiveafrack (sorry if it didn't tag anyone properly)

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky fanfic #beefy bucky #bucky smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #winter soldier #marvel fic #marvel au #marvel #lessons in lovemaking

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rexhya · 2 months ago

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warn — none, i these asks were pretty similar so i just grouped them into one!

✦ ✦

yandere!prince whos been more lovey dovey with you, currently you sit on his lap in the throne room dressed into too expensive clothing while he craddles your head and noses your neck.

"Mm, I wish I could just plaster your scent to me permanently. It's much easier getting off with your smell than not." As usual he waits for your reaction, you grace him with a polite smile he frowns at. He likes it better when you squirm.

"Don't ignore me," he whines his arms gripping your waist in a way that reminds you how easily he could overpower you.

"I'm not." you said dryly, attempting to turn your head from his caramel face but he only holds you tighter.

"Then look at me when I'm talking." his voice was like glass cutting through your heart, you faced him, tears in your eyes, you just couldn't help it. His affections were so misleading you didn't know if he was really in love with you like he said or simply took pleasure in tormenting you. ( most likely the latter )

"Awww, sweetheart don't cry." his face is concerned but his tone is condescending. It only makes you sob more. He kisses at your cheeks, wiping tears away with his thumb. Unbeknownst to you, Anul feels guilty, of course, not enough to ever let you go. But enough to give you a bit of comfort.

"What's wrong my love? Tell me."

There were so many things you could say, instead you whispered, "I just miss my friends. From the maids chambers. I havent seen them in so long."

This partly true, because of him you hadn't seen very much of anyone besides him.

"Very well, then just for today you can be released to your original residence, of course tonight you will sleep with me." you gasped, a for a moment Anul almost looked kind.

"Really?" you didn't believe it.

"Of course."

✦ ✦

You were overjoyed to be back with your friends, it was almost like escaping prison if not for a few hours.

"[Name], you're back." a high pitched voice called from the stairway down to the laundry room, you need to be out of these clothes as soon as possible.

"Samantha, I've missed you." You hugged her tightly.

"And you, though not much has happened whe you've been gone. I'm assuming the prince is rather amorous these days?"

Your face went bright red, "No, not really. We haven't done anything like that if that's what you're asking..."

"I see...Oh that reminds me, you've received someletters while you've been gone." Samantha led you back to the room where mail was to be collected, all maids had a workers had a box where they could receive things from outside the palace, you box contained two eveloples stamped with your family's emblem.

It must be from your father, you thought, you have no siblings and your mother always signed her initials at the ends of his letters to let you know shes always there.

One envelope contains a letter written to you (from your father as suspected) stating how he's found you a husband. Someone you've met before, the farmer who lives just outside your house and how once your contract expires you are urged to return home. The thought makes your heart swell, you'd forgotten about the man, his warm smile, his dimpled cheeks and rather charastmatic personality.

This was the best news you'd gotten since you'd came here, and your contract was ending in just a few short weeks, soon you'd be able to leave and continue a lifestyle you'd always dreamed of.

Suddenly your sprits were lifted, you didn't feel as dreadful walking back to the princes chambers. But Anul could tell you were happier than usual. He could always tell.

And while lying in bed, terror overcame you in just a few short words.

"You're not eally going off to try and mary that man were you [Name]?"

His claws grip your jaw, sinister smile pressed on your lips.

"No my prince, of course not my prince." you lie with a shaky teary breath.

"Of course you weren't, you'd never leave me, just as i'd never leave you, because were meant to be together and nothing could ever come between us right?"

"Right."

The day after, you saw you contract had been extended, instead of a few short weeks, Anul had changed the time of stay to years. You never should have signed that paper.

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haologram · 1 month ago

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dipped ⌁ c.sc [m]

↳ part of the carat bay collab!

⌁ synopsis: your summers since university have always been spent spinning in odd circles around town, pockets overflowing with cash - until your clerical 9-5 lays you off for 'spring cleaning.' luckily, you find a summer job fast: tending to the 'adults only' section of your local waterpark, and being at choi seungcheol's beck and call. ⌁ genre: stupid big dumb idiots to lovers ; angst, fluff, smut. ⌁ pairing: grad student!choi seungcheol x fem!lifeguard!reader ⌁ word count: 33.8k ⌁ rating: 18+. minors do not interact. ⌁ warnings: swearing, alcohol, smoking (weed), mentions of past sports-related injuries (seungcheol), one weird encounter with a creep (yn and seungcheol) ; wonpil + brian of day6 mentioned as side characters and i'm SORRY i LOVE wonpil + brian okay don't say shit to me ; seungcheol is a flirty fuck and very much rolls with the punches ; yn has many Issues™ (read: no contact with her parents, fucks her roommate, stands by girl code religiously (lies), has a weird relationship with aftercare) ; lots of calling people whores and sluts (listen...just...okay?) ; so. many. insults. ; mentions of joshua x reader because i love making things extra spicy ; yn does NAWWWT like seungcheol (yes she does) ; pet/nicknames: lifeguard barbie, babe, princess, etc || smut warnings: unprotected sex ; making out (they kiss...so much...free me), dry humping/grinding, nipple play (m/f. rec), body worship (m/f rec.) because it's not a haologram fic without body worship and nipple play ; oral (m/f rec.), handjob, fingering (f. rec), cumplay/swapping (?) ; kinda subby!cheol but it just depends on how you see it i guess ; begging ; missionary, creampie ; i think that's it! ⌁ what to listen to: bad romance - lady gaga ; yo voy - zion y lenox ; fear of water - noah kahan ; fine line - harry styles ; there is light in us - mathbonus ; the beach - the neighbourhood ; saturn - sleeping at last ; i'm gonna love you - d.o, wonstein. ⌁ author's note: preface: me posting this is not condoning gyucheol's recent behaviors [read my stance on it here + here.] i am fulfilling a commitment i made before they went on the showterview. that being said: i definitely lost the plot several times and i am so sorry for that :( this is officially seungcheol's debut on haologram! also apologies for the smut, i know it's ass. thank you to @camandemstudios for sponsoring this video fic, and thank you to my lovely wonderful amazing betas that didn't even get to read most of this because i'm insane: viv @heartepub ; aeris @aeristudios ; tomo @tomodachiii 💘 as usual, sun dividers by the lovely @/saradika-graphics here on tumblr! enjoy! (or don't....i don't care [as])

"SO YOU GOT LAID OFF. IT'S FINE, Y/N. WE'LL FIGURE IT OUT."

You hate to say it, but you don't think you've ever hated your roommate more than you do at this very moment.

"It's fine? Joshua, I'm fifteen thousand dollars in debt, okay? I have rent, I have groceries, I have to pay my phone bill! How am I supposed to get by without my job?!"

He looks over the magazine in his hand with a confused look, "Y/N, I pay all that stuff and I just sent in a check a few weeks ago for your student loans. We've been on the same phone plan since you cut off your parents, and you pay our light bill. Which is never over sixty dollars, because neither of us are ever home. Don't play with me right now."

"Joshua!"

He sighs, tossing the magazine back onto the coffee table as you cross your arms on your chest. He's looking at you like you've grown a second head, as if his reaction to this information is perfectly valid and you are the one getting your panties in a twist. Granted, it's only been a few hours since you got home from the horrible Friday of sitting at a desk and getting paid to do nothing but answer the phone and book one or two appointments – but you're in distress, damnit!

"What do you want me to say, Y/N? I've got you? Because you know I do." You hate the way your heart warms at that. It was true – Joshua was your best friend through and through. He'd saved you from so many odd situations – including the time you somehow let a pipe burst in your old student apartment, and he found a way to blame it on the university (read: coaxed Yoon Jeonghan to fuck up more parts of your apartment with a promise of letting him borrow his car for dates.) He'd been a huge rock in your years away from home, and when home was no longer home and your relationship with your parents crumbled.

Joshua was the only sense of home that you had left, and you'd be a fool not to recognize the fruits of his efforts: the apartment you both safely inhabited, the food in your belly and the unlimited storage plan he paid for that allowed you to download multiple oddball games of the Doodle Jump and Candy Crush nature. You huff, choosing to plop down on the couch next to him with a pout on your lip.

"But I like having my own money." You mutter. "It helps me feel like an adult that contributes to society."

"You are an adult that contributes to society, Y/N. Don't be so hard on yourself." He reminds you, before reaching for the television remote. You open your mouth to argue when a soft zztt sound is heard, leaving you and Joshua sitting in the darkness. There is a moment of silence before you feel Joshua shift next to you, the only light coming from the setting sun through the blinds. You put your head in your hands, before Joshua sighs.

"You're not serious." You look up slightly, peeking at him through your fingers. From the low light, you can see the furrow in his brows and it only makes you let out a noise of guilt.

"Sixty dollars, Y/N. You didn't have sixty dollars?" "...I spent it all." Your voice is meek, and he runs a hand over his face slowly, a heavy breath from his nostrils sounding in your ears before he crosses his arms.

"On what? What could have possibly been more important than the light bill? You know we can't cook without it, right?" You feel your face grow hot as he gives you a pointed look, and you sigh. You avoid his eyes as you clear your throat. "You remember when you came home last week and you asked me where your green hoodie was? And I told you it was in my drawer and then you…you found the, uh…" You feel your throat grow tight in embarrassment as his eyes widen, and he covers his face with his hand.

"Let me get this straight, okay? You mean to tell me, you spent your last sixty dollars on that stupid vibrator? You didn't pay our light bill because you wanted to…I can't even look at you right now." He shakes his head in disbelief, moving to stand up when you grab his arm.

"I'm sorry! It has sixteen different settings, you wouldn't understand–" "Y/N, why do you even need that many?!" You let go of his arm, crossing yours with a huff as you stare at your feet. "Can't a girl want options?" "When it's between jerking off and paying your light bill, you don't get a choice. How would you feel if I wasted our grocery money on one of those inflatable fuck dolls?" "Embarrassed, honestly. You're a good looking guy, you can do better." He scoffs out a laugh, and you try to swallow the humiliated laugh that's crawling up your throat but it only slips out the moment he turns back around to look at you. He covers his face, crouching by the side of the couch before running his fingers through his hair and giving you a pointed look. "You know what? I was going to take it easy on you, but you've really just left me no choice." He shakes his head, digging his phone out of his pocket as your eyes widen. You lurch forward, knocking him over in your attempt to grab it out of his hand as he wriggles away from you. "Shua, no!" "Shua, yes! Sixty dollars on a piece of plastic, Y/N! I don't even perceive you as a romantic entity and I could do better!" "Hey! It's silicone!" You shove his shoulder as he manages to click around his contacts, before the phone starts dialing. You manage to climb onto his chest, your legs straddling his torso as your thighs pin him in place, your hand knocking the phone out of his hand just as he presses the speaker button.

"Hello?"

Jeonghan.

"No! Jeonghan–" Joshua manages to flip the two of you over, quickly pinning your arms to your sides as he straddles you. You let out a strangled groan, attempting to kick his back as Jeonghan's staticky, cynical laugh rings through his phone.

"Han, please tell me you still need a lifeguard to take over your spot this summer." Joshua breathes out, semi-out of breath as you manage to free one of your hands, reaching up and twisting his nipple through his shirt. He squeals, pushing your hand away and pinning it above you on the floor as you let out an aimless scream.

"Joshua, I'll see you on Monday, alright? Stop torturing that poor girl, she pays your light bill."

"That's the thing, Jeonghan! She didn't, so you have to let her take your spot. Please! I'll even shell out another week of paid vacation time for you!" Another thing about Joshua? Aside from the incredible efforts he put forth into your friendship, your roommate was also known to manage a waterpark with Yoon Jeonghan every summer; just six miles from your apartment was Carat Bay, where he'd been working since you were freshmen in college.

He also worked as a vocal coach from Monday to Friday at one of the local entertainment companies; but that was just for his Pokémon cards, his caffeine addiction, and the occasional ice cream from the convenience store down the street. Rarely did any of that money see the light of day, simply stacking interest in his savings account while he hoarded the money from his job at the waterpark to make last the whole year.

Out of all the odd jobs the two of you took (because Lord knows neither of you were using your degrees all that much) – his job at the company, the waterpark, and your clerical position were the steadiest. You would occasionally find yourself patrolling random hotel grounds on the weekends as security, or slipping into an apron to fill in for your friend Sana at her cafe for a bit more cash to stuff into your rainy day fund.

Sometimes Joshua would come home smelling like fried chicken (and carrying it, too) or with his face covered in grease from swooping in at Soonyoung's auto repair shop. The nights when the two of you were home were restless – scavenging newspapers and Craigslist ads for anything you could find: house sitting, housekeeping, even weekend nannying gigs.

Every penny that landed in Joshua's bank account was frugally spent – but it was smartly spent. Hence why you, not paying for the one thing he put in your name, is a big deal.

"Fine, I'll talk to you on Monday. I need to run some things by you before the park opens. Tell Y/N to get a bathing suit, preferably not that pretty pink one she wore to Junhui's birthday last year." "Oh, fuck off! I was the life of the party!" You scowl, attempting once more to free yourself from Joshua's grasp but ultimately failing. He giggles, like the lunatic he is, your roommate giggles.

"I'll see you on Monday, pretty girl. You and your nip slips." Jeonghan hangs up before you can retort, your sentence caught in your throat as Joshua smiles down at you smugly.

"I hate you." You grumble, before feeling his lips press to your forehead. You move your head to hit his face, but he swiftly moves back before you can make contact with his chin. "You love me. Now, go fetch me the bill from the fridge, I'll pay it." He climbs off you, letting go of your hand as you scowl. You make it a point to kick his hip, your heel meeting the socket and making him scoff before nudging his toe into your ribcage. "Go!"

The night is full of bickering after Joshua pays the bill, with muttered curses as you bump into things and open the front window to let the cooler night breeze flow through the room. You fan your face with the morning newspaper, with Joshua making a snide remark about you looking at the job offers in the Business section.

You retreat to your room for the night as he picks at you, and the lights turn on just as you pass the bathroom. He's finishing shaving his face in the dark, using the light of a candle to look at himself in the mirror. You roll your eyes, sliding into your room when he catches the door.

"What are you doing?" Your eyes are wide as your dripping roommate pushes past you, beelining for your dresser in the corner. He yanks open the top drawer, throwing a few pairs of your underwear over his shoulder. "Joshua!" "Aha!" He holds up the hot pink vibrator you'd spent the light bill money on, tilting it towards you. "You'll get this back after your first paycheck hits the bank, or when you start prioritizing things."

You scoff, reaching for it as he holds it over his head. "Joshua, give it back! I paid good money for that thing!" You grimace, "and you shouldn't be so comfortable grabbing my intimate items! I put that inside me!" "There are many other things you could put inside you that don't cost sixty dollars, Y/N." He rolls his eyes as you claw at his shirt, your fingernails sinking into his bicep as he shakes you off like a leaf. "Me included." "Joshua!" "Either I keep it or you use it in front of me. Your choice." A part of you wants to believe he's joking, but yet another thing about you and Joshua – no conversation topic was off limits, and there had been quite a few conversations that should've never left the sanctity of your sober minds.

Kinks, fetishes and favorite sex positions included. Did Joshua need to know you wanted to be folded like a pretzel? No! Did it matter when you were drunk off three mango margaritas two years ago at the cabana in that fuckass waterpark he manages? Also no!

So he's not kidding. Not in the slightest, and you can tell he knows he's won as you shrink back with a scowl.

"So, that's a no on the peep show?" He has the audacity to tease you as he slinks out of your bedroom, your vibrator bright in his hand as he presses buttons. "Ooh, this is nice~" "Joshua!" "Goodnight, Y/N!"

You bury your face in your hands, a groan from your lips as you contemplate your choices.

And ultimately, make the wrong one as you follow Joshua back down the hall towards his bedroom.

"Hey, pretty girl."

"Fuck off, Jeonghan." You mutter under your breath, setting your backpack on the table in front of you. Joshua wasn't starting at the waterpark again for another week, but considering you were new and you were taking Jeonghan's spot for the first half of the summer – the three of you were now going to be stuck in the resource office to fill out paperwork for the day.

However, Joshua is out in the park helping the janitorial staff, entrusting you into Jeonghan's devilish hands.

"What happened to the swimsuit? You know we have to test your swimming skills, right?" You sighed, Jeonghan's eyes genuinely concerned as you pulled the hem of your shirt up. You wore an orange one-piece under it, your jeans a little too loose on your hips and held up by a shoestring. "Nice color, but wrong one. We'll give you an official one once we're done here…you're really struggling if you're using a shoelace as a belt, Y/N." Jeonghan snickers, earning a smack from you on his shoulder. He scowls, batting your hand away, "It's not my fault you're here! I'm not the person you pissed off!" "Oh, trust me. He's not pissed anymore." You roll your eyes, your cheeks hot as you shove your hair out of your face. Jeonghan pauses for a moment, the pen in his hand hovering over the first stack of papers in front of him as he stares at you. You avoided his gaze, nibbling on your lip as you watched the hands on the clock tick – before the click of his tongue rings out.

"About time." "It's not the first time, you know that." Jeonghan snorts, shaking his head as he folds his hands together. "When will the two of you admit that it's more? No one just takes care of student loans, rent, groceries…there has to be more." "Jeonghan, I don't want to do this right now. Joshua and I are just friends, and we've only hooked up out of sheer desperation. Trust me, I've tried to have feelings for the guy." You roll your eyes, scoffing out a laugh as Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

"You guys need to stop sleeping together, eventually someone is going to come along and you'll have to explain that weird ass dynamic." He clicks the pen, making you snicker as you lean closer.

"We didn't sleep together this time, not that it's any of your business." You lie as you grab a pen from the cup holder, and he only shakes his head again as your shoulder brushes his. "You're right, it's not. Now, focus. Can you hold your breath for more than two minutes?" The paperwork is easy as you scrawl your signature across pages without reading them. The banter is easy, and the way Jeonghan brings up your nip slip at Junhui's birthday party a year ago makes you shove him into the nearest pool when the two of you step outside. It's way too hot for early May, and you curse yourself as you try to cover your chest with your arms as Jeonghan crawls out of the pool like a demon from a sewer.

"You guys are done already? That paperwork took me hours with Soonyoung." Joshua walks over, his hands tucked into the bright red swim trunks that matched your suit. You roll your eyes, dipping your foot into the pool in front of you. "I didn't read, I just signed. You could be selling me to the Antichrist for a corn chip and I'd have no idea." You shrug, shivering at the cold feeling of the water. He only smiles, sidling up next to you as Jeonghan scowls up at you.

"I hate the both of you, I hope you know that." He mutters, shoving his wet hair out of his eyes and wiping the chlorinated water off his face. "I shouldn't even be here, I should be packing for Bali like I said I would be." "Oh, but we'll miss you so much when you're gone!" You feign a pout, making Joshua snicker as he crouches down next to Jeonghan and offers a hand. "It'll be fast, plus we've got other things to do today, too. We still have to stop by the market and get groceries." He dips his feet in the pool, leaning back on his hands as you bounce on your toes. "On a Monday?" "The market happens to be the least busy on Monday evenings. Not that you would know, since you spend your Monday nights locked in your bedroom with a vibrator and surrounded by Smiski figurines." Joshua rolls his eyes as you scowl, nudging his thigh with your foot.

"When will you drop it? I said I was sorry!" "When you jump in the pool and give me two laps without coming up for air. Go." Unfortunately, your scowling does nothing as Joshua asks one of the other employees to bring a towel out for you. You lower yourself to sit on the edge of the pool, before getting shoved in by a wet hand on your back. It's freezing, and you let out a strangled scream as you come up for air. "Jeonghan!" "When a kid is drowning in the deep end, you don't have time to acclimate. Now, go! Two laps!"

You swallow the rage building in your throat, and file the idea of deep conditioning your hair to the back of your mind as you sink back under the water. For whatever reason, you don't mind the idea of the waterpark job. It's steady, and Joshua always comes home with bottles of sunscreen that free you from yet another minuscule expense. He would bring you to-go cups from the cabana of their Tiger's Blood snow cone, and the occasional cucumber under-eye patches from the spa that catered mostly to the tired mothers that visited the park.

But when you really thought about it – kids were really gross. Peeing in the pools, snotty, stained with multiple colors of syrups from the very same cabana snow cones you enjoyed when they didn't get paid for by your debit card.

The only two pros were the money, and working with all of your stupid, testosterone-fueled friends. At least you wouldn't be alone, and you'd be entertained.

You spend the rest of the afternoon at the waterpark being pushed into random pools and scenarios, and Joshua signs you up for the morning CPR course the next week. He tells you he'll give you a tour on your first day.

"What does Jeonghan even do besides shove people in pools all day?" You mutter as you walk back to Joshua's car, and Joshua snickers. "Whatever he wants. His job is in the Adults Only section of the park, and we have quite a few regulars. You'll love them, and that's the part of the park that makes the most in tips so just enjoy it." He shrugs, before clicking the doors open. You shuffle in, your hair still wet from the pool and you feel gross in your damp bathing suit. The water seeps through your jeans, making every movement uncomfortable as you shift in your seat.

"If I get a UTI, it's on you, Shua." "First of all, I washed my hands before we started messing around last night–" You reach over to smack his arm, earning a laugh as he slips his keys into the ignition. "I meant from the pool water!" "We have showers, Y/N." "Those showers are crawling with athlete's foot and pinworms and you know it."

He only laughs as you huff, and you cross your arms on your chest as he pulls out of the parking lot. His gaze is soft as he glances at you, holding his hand out for you to take.

"I know it's not ideal, but you can't just stay home all day, you know? It'll drive you mad." His voice is gentle, and you sigh as you mess with his fingers.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry about the light bill, really." "Y/N, I love you. I'm not always going to be around, though, and the light bill…you're gonna have to earn your way out of that one. I mean, a vibrator? Come on." "Sixteen settings! Remember how number seven felt!?" You squeeze his fingers, and he only snorts as he swats your hand away. "Shua!" "Yes, it felt great. Now, do you want dinner? I don't feel like cooking and Lord knows we'll be sick for days if you're in the kitchen." "You love me, Joshua Hong." "I do, now tell me what you want."

Maybe it should be weird.

Maybe it should be weird, that you and Joshua are so close despite the three sexual encounters you've had. Despite the fact that you stupidly made a virginity pact and went through with it, and the fact that he came to you after a breakup and things went left, and last night – sitting on his bed with your back against his chest and his cock sheathed inside you as muffled your whimpers with your shirt between your teeth.

And it's even weirder knowing that neither of you have ever wanted it to be romantic. Many conversations about it, even drunken ones – but nothing comes of it because the idea of romance with each other seemingly disgusts the two of you. You're fine with the three times you've hooked up, you're fine with the way he kisses you, you're fine with all of it.

And you know that Jeonghan is right – there will be a time when someone comes into your life and wonders if. If you've kissed Joshua, if you've slept with him, if you've ever had feelings for him.

But that's a problem for later you.

"YES MA'AM, THE CABANA IS OPEN."

It's only been three days. Three days and you're already appalled at the amount of parents that haul ass to get drunk off mango margaritas and spiked Bahama Mama snow cones at nine in the morning. You're also impressed at the amount of beautiful women that line the Adults Only section of the Olympic-sized pool, all sizes of tanning lotions laid out on the ground and floppy hats strewn about.

You find yourself constantly sipping on something – courtesy of the very sweet cabana boy named Chan – and flipping through a magazine from your seat under the large parasol. You look up every once in a while to take a ticket, or redirect someone – but the worst part is dealing with college frat boys who try to flirt and make comments about your swimsuit. You almost want to let them run around the pool – maybe they'll slip.

The job was easy – you walked around every hour, reapplied sunscreen, even snacking on something one of the lovely park mothers decided to slip you. Oreos, handfuls of pistachios, even heavily stacked sandwiches with crunchy chips slipped inside – and you'd had so many over the course of your first three days at the park.

You even dipped your feet in the hot springs at the end of the day before shoving your flip flops on and making the bike ride home – no use in bringing your car all that often, right? Waste of money and gas! Gas that Joshua pays for, but hey. Who are you to waste it?

The owner of the car.

"Jeonghan didn't tell me there was a pretty new girl." You don't bother glancing up, flipping the page of the magazine in your lap with one hand before speaking.

"Yeah, well. Jeonghan didn't tell me all the guys here are either sleazy, fathers, or both." You roll your eyes, stopping your finger over a photo of Zendaya at the Met Gala. "Welcome to Carat Bay, this is the Adults Only section. Any children brought with you must remain supervised outside of the sector. The Saunas and the Hot Springs must be reserved before usage. Is there anything I can help you with?" You absently fish through the coir basket in front of you, before grabbing a lanyard and holding it up. It gets taken out of your hand gently, fingertips brushing yours as you thumb another page of the magazine. "Y/N, you have to actually look at the customers when you greet them." You hear Joshua's voice in your ear, but don't look up as you skim through the outfits on the page. "Y/N." "Mmh, yeah. I hear ya." You nod, sighing as you flip the magazine closed and throw it onto the pile of towels next to you. Glancing up, you see a tall man sizing you up – his eyes a dark brown, lined with thick lashes and the strongest brows you'd seen since you broke up with Wonpil after three years.

Don't leave your girlfriend alone in her apartment right after you fuck, dipshit.

"Y/N." Joshua calls again, and you tear your eyes away to look at your roommate giving you a hard stare. His arms are crossed on his chest, "You said you'd try. This isn't trying." "I'm showing up, aren't I? And the MILFs–" "The mothers, Y/N." You roll your eyes, "The mothers love my nonchalance! They're just here to tan and get drunk, how is…sorry, what's your name?" You blink up at the man in front of you, and he only smiles softly as Joshua pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Seungcheol, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Seungcheol, and he's one of our regulars. He's the only one who really uses the hot springs, so they're already booked out for him." Joshua taps the tablet in front of you, and you narrow your eyes as his name slips off your tongue.

"Seungcheol? Like…Choi Seungcheol? Like…No. 95 on the soccer team at SNU, Choi Seungcheol?" It's slightly bitter in your mouth, and Joshua runs his hand over his face in frustration. Choi Seungcheol looks oddly impressed, maybe with a hint of smugness hidden behind his smile as Joshua speaks.

"Yes, Y/N. All that and also, Jeonghan's roommate. Now, does it matter?" "It does when he broke my roommate's heart freshman year." You cross your arms on your chest, and Choi Seungcheol gives Joshua a seemingly knowing look as he shrugs his shoulders.

"Could be anyone." "Whore."

Joshua gapes at you as you mutter and lean back in your chair, but Seungcheol only smiles, shaking his head. He tucks the lanyard in the pocket of his pink swim trunks before shrugging.

"They do say that your reputation precedes you." He runs his eyes over your shoulders lightly, before they flicker back to your face. You scowl, splaying your hands over your exposed skin as he tilts his head. "But I can assure you, you have nothing to worry about." "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Did you just call me ugly?" You huff, and Joshua muffles a sigh with his palms over his face. You look over at him, "Your friend just called me ugly, Shua." Seungcheol smiles mischievously, before letting himself through the gate. He flicks the brim of your floppy hat, squealing softly as you reach your hand back to swat him away. Joshua peeks at the two of you through his fingers, and you frown as you see the hint of a smile start to show on his lips – before you feel Seungcheol's breath on the shell of your ear.

"Don't let what I do or don't think about you keep you up at night, pretty girl." "Joshua!"

You swat Seungcheol away, who only hums something reminiscent of La Vie En Rose as he practically skips away. Joshua is pursing his lips, trying to hold back his laughter when you throw the magazine you'd been flipping through in his direction. He catches it, before rolling it up and smacking your leg with it.

"Y/N, Seungcheol is a customer. Whether you like him or not, you have to treat him with basic decency. Remember what you're working towards here, and all sixteen of its settings." Joshua turns up his nose as he tucks the magazine under his arm and walks away. You scoff in disbelief, before turning back to see Seungcheol very much doing what whores do – flirting with one of the younger mothers, her leopard print bikini catching your eyes as he crouched next to her.

She's blushing – or maybe it's the heat from the blazing summer sun.

"Ugh." You feel a sour taste fill your mouth as his eyes flicker to meet yours, your own rolling as he winks. Tonguing your cheek, you face forward once more, now burdened with actually having to do your job when you hear Joshua call out to you over his shoulder from a few feet away.

"And you're not even friends with Jaehee anymore!" "A friendship may fade, but girl code never wanes!"

"What do you mean, he's in our friend circle?" You're sitting in the park's office, eating your lunch when Joshua drops the stupendous bomb on you. You've got mayonnaise on your lip as you look up at him, who rolls his eyes as he swipes his thumb over it. You scowl, swatting his hand away before wiping a napkin on your face, swallowing the bite of your sandwich.

"Y/N, Cheol has been in our friend group since college. How do you not know this?"

Mingyu – long-time friend, the group's stoner chef, and waterslide operator for the last three years – butts into your conversation, holding a cup of yoghurt in his hand as he sidles up next to you. You scoff, dipping one of your chips into the salsa Joshua brought from home, before shaking your head.

"I don't hang out with scum." "Because he was always at practice, Y/N. Not because he wasn't part of your life." You chew silently, pursing your lips as you shake your head again. "Because I don't need that sort of energy in my life. I have enough with Soonyoung whoring around, I don't need another one who also broke Jaehee's heart. I don't need another so-called 'friend' that has slept with all my girlfriends and thus left me in the hands of this stupid group of testosterone and Dude Wipe users that make fun of me when I have a nip slip." "Soonyoung slept with all six of them?" Mingyu gapes, and you snort as you shove the last bite of your sandwich into your cheek. Chewing carefully, you nod as he spoons peach yoghurt into his mouth. "Impressive."

"The point here, Y/N, is that Seungcheol is involved in your life. He's a regular, he's Jeonghan's roommate, and he's my friend, our friend. You've never been around him simply because of divine intervention. He's been in our apartment, he knows who you are–" "He knows about the nip slip at Junhui's birthday party that he missed because he stayed running drills on the field." Mingyu snorts, making you frown as you take another chip between your fingers. "I told him not to do it, you know. Now he's a fucking regular here to heal himself because he won't let the other masseuses at his job touch him."

Your ears perk, "What do you mean, heal himself?" "He frayed his hip labrum during practice in college, and he just kept playing. He got hurt during nationals and it was a pretty bad tear, and he had surgery. The heat of the water helps the pain he gets, which isn't all that often but it likes to act up during the summer because that's when he's the most active. He was super bummed about it, and didn't talk to anyone for literal months while he was in physical therapy." Joshua explains, and you feel your chest ache slightly.

You do remember seeing something about his departure from the soccer team through the campus forums, with people sending flowers and gifts to the recovery center he had been at. People talked about it like it was nothing, but even with your disdain for Seungcheol – you listened. You knew he was one of the best players on the team, everyone in the sport-playing world at Seoul National knew that if anyone went pro: it was going to be him.

So you weren't surprised to hear that it hit him like a truck.

"That's…really sad, actually." You murmur, "But it doesn't change the fact that–" "Oh, give it a rest! Jaehee has long gotten over it, trust me." Joshua rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his Topo Chico. You narrow your eyes at him, watching the way a guilty blush coats his cheeks as he sets the bottle down. "What?" "What do you know about Jaehee, Shua?" "Nothing." "She's been off social media for years, and she only posts updates on her birthday and after she got her master's. So how, my good sir, do you know she's over it when she didn't date for the rest of college?" Joshua clears his throat, and Mingyu snickers next to you as you point a chip at your roommate. "Spill." "I saw her a few weeks ago. We just bumped into each other at the market, no big deal."

He tongues his cheek, his forefinger tracing the spout of his drink as you cross your arms on your chest. The door opens, revealing one Kwon Soonyoung in a hideous tiger-print Speedo and sunscreen swiped on his cheeks. You grimace, covering your eyes with one hand before you speak. "Joshua Hong." He scoffs, presumably rolling his eyes. "Can we not do this here? You know I'm a man of my word, I don't kiss and tell."

"That means they hooked up." You hear Soonyoung's voice in your ear, and you jump, your elbow jabbing into his side. He scowls, swatting your hand away. "What? It's not like the two of you are exclusive." "Who isn't exclusive?"

You peek through your fingers, seeing the very same mop of shaggy brown hair now slicked back and dripping onto the break room floor. Pursing your lips, you ignore the way Joshua smiles inwardly before taking a sip of his drink, taking the initiative to say something as said mop of shaggy brown hair shakes and sprays onto Soonyoung – who squeals like he's never been wet a day in his life. "What are you doing here? This is for employees only, you need to leave." "Ooh, what's with the attitude? Clerical Barbie takes over as Lifeguard Barbie and suddenly she loses that customer service voice?"

Seungcheol's brows jump as he pops the cap off a bottle of Topo Chico, and you feel a surge of annoyance flood your stomach as Joshua shakes his head. "Knock it off, Cheol."

He shrugs, strolling around the counter against the counter where you and Mingyu are sitting. You feel your jaw tight as you lean back in your chair, watching him bump his hip to a smiling Mingyu's. You give Joshua a hard look, who only shakes his head as you speak loudly.

"You're not allowed in here, Choi." "Are you going to remove me from the premises? Is that part of your job description, roughing me up a little bit?"

You glare at Seungcheol, who only winks. You manage to hear how Soonyoung bites back his laugh, opting to turn around and face the open fridge and crossing his arms on his chest. Seungcheol sips his drink, pouty lips slightly glistening before you look away.

Mingyu groans, "I don't want to hear this. You're fighting a losing battle over someone you're not friends with anymore, Y/N. You're friends with Soonyoung and he's a bigger slut than Cheol." "Mingyu has a point." Joshua agrees quietly, before an offended scoff fills the air as Mingyu slides out the break room door. "I am not a slut! Why are you slut shaming me?" Soonyoung slams the fridge shut, and you scoff.

"You also slept with Jaehee! Don't think I forgot, I'm still mad that you cleaned up with my shirt! My shirt, Soonyoung!" "She told me you'd be out! I wasn't going to stop mid-stroke because–"

You only raise your hand, cutting him off before you wave it. He tongues his cheek, silently turning his nose up at you as he slips out of the breakroom. Joshua sighs, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples as he speaks.

"You have thirty minutes left of your break. Seungkwan is at your station until that's up, and then I need you to be present. Please." Joshua pleads, before reaching for the containers on the table and carefully packing them up. "I know you don't want to be here, but it's really not the end of the world. And…" You let your eyes flicker up to him, his own pointed and stern. "You are to treat everyone like a visitor. You're to be nice, to be helpful and this…" He gestures between you and Seungcheol. "This? This is stupid. You run in the same circles, you work here and he's a regular. Respectfully, Seungcheol is literally just a whore. I know you're loyal, I know you care…but Jaehee and Cheol are a thing of the past. They've moved on."

Your cheeks grow hot and you don't bother to say anything back, feeling the room fill with tension thicker than the caramel on the sundaes at the Cabana. Joshua gives you a soft look, a gentle smile on his lips before he turns and slides the containers into the fridge.

"Thirty minutes, Barbie."

You nod silently, picking at your nails as Joshua slips out the door. Seungcheol hums from two feet away, and you feel your jaw tight as he slides over a minuscule amount.

"I don't bite." "Have you ever heard the saying: if you run with dogs, you'll get fleas?" You slide off the chair, pushing your hair out of your face. He doesn't reply, only running his eyes over you as you walk towards him. You stop right behind him, your arm brushing the wet compression shirt on his back.

"It doesn't have to be about Jaehee. It doesn't have to be about any of the girls who would talk about you at my sorority parties and the games you would play. At the end of the day, the common denominator is you." He turns around, his nose nearly brushing yours from how close he is. You can smell the chlorine mixed with sunscreen and a hint of something sultry, something that would make you weak in the knees if it weren't for the odd animosity brewing in your belly.

"What are you trying to say? That I can't have fun?" You furrow your brow, "That you're a dog, Seungcheol. And all dogs…they bite."

His eyes flicker around your face, before leaning even closer to you. His lips almost brush yours, the glitter of your lipgloss nearly the only barrier between your lips and his. Something inside you makes you angrily attracted to the proximity, and you force yourself to keep your gaze frozen in place. "Trust me when I say this, yeah?" He nods, your eyes only narrowing. "I don't bite, but you'd love it if I did, sweetheart. The high horse isn't too good of a thing to ride, you know; there are better things."

You feel your chest hot as he moves back, the insinuation of him being the better option trying to force itself into your brain. A ring clinks against the bottle as his fingers circling the spout of his drink as he moves away. Scoffing, you roll your eyes, moving to walk away when you hear his voice in your ear. "Nice swimsuit, by the way." "Fuck off."

"YOU CAN'T BE FUCKING SERIOUS."

It's been two weeks since you started working at the waterpark. You pulled it out of Joshua that he did, in fact, sleep with Jaehee after graduation and that's how he knows she's fine. You don't particularly care, either, because you're still leeching onto it as your reason to hate Seungcheol – for lack of better reasons.

As for the waterpark, things are incredibly easy; it's become even easier to sneak spiked Tiger's Blood snow cones and jalapeño margaritas from Cabana Boy Chan – he's cute and you had been determined to land a date with him by the end of the summer.

Emphasis on had been.

You were all smiles and twirling your hair, making him laugh shyly and dig his chin into his chest. Winks, subtly flirty comments, anything and everything – and he couldn't help but let his cheeks flush something awful, his words stuttered out as you bit your lip and pushed your chest out. He couldn't hide any of his reactions, especially not the way his eyes followed the movement of your tongue when you licked the spiced rim of a jalapeño-mango margarita after hours.

All good things end, though – because Chan hasn't been able to look you in the eye for the past weekend. He kept his head down while making your drinks, apologizing quickly if he moved too fast and your drinks sloshed over the edge of the cups he served them in. Cheeks still red as ever, eyes still shy and roaming – but not a laugh, not a coherent conversation.

Why? Seungcheol.

He'd been making your days a living hell. From requesting a towel or sunscreen every time he saw you – meaning you'd have to trek the entire park to get them for him – to openly flirting with the mothers and students that hung around the park, he was a constant in your newfound day-to-day life. He never directly bothered you, he made it a point to only mildly inconvenience you – but it's much, much easier (and convenient) to say that he was ruining your life by merely existing in your perimeter. Joshua was starting to get sick of your complaining, but couldn’t really do anything because you were still doing your job, exactly as he’d asked.

However – you were not blind. At times like this, at these truly, incredibly trying times: you wished you were – just for Seungcheol. To have him become a blur of a being that crossed your path, maybe even mistaken for those floaters that your optometrist always talked about; would be a blessing in and of itself.

Because unfortunately for you, Lifeguard Barbie, Seungcheol is hot. He's stupidly hot, all broad shoulders and thick thighs and the longest lashes you'd ever seen. The brows and the lips and the arms, Christ, he's a walking wet dream and you hate it. You hate it like you've never hated anything before and for that very reason, you kept each and every forced interaction short and dull.

Until he noticed, and you know he noticed, that you flirted with Chan every chance you got. He saw the way Chan tried to hide his blushing cheeks, your teasing smile that dropped every time Seungcheol neared the Cabana; replaced with a pursed lip as Chan slipped away to take his order. He noticed the way you smiled softly at Chan (and everyone that wasn’t him) and he felt a weird pang in his chest every time – not that you knew about that, though.

Nor did you have to.

After the realization settled in his mind, he kept you longer. Kept running his eyes over you just to see you bristle, kept talking about your swimsuit fitting you just right – even went as far as snapping the strap against your shoulder in passing, just to piss you off. He liked to rile you up, saying flirty things that made your cheeks hot and thoroughly enjoying the way you clenched your fists at your sides as you feigned interest in his needs as a customer at the park. It felt so stupid, and so derivative of the idiotic theory that boys are mean to girls when they like them – it's simply not true.

Despite not getting a word out of Chan unless it was a muttered apology for the weekend, you managed to ease your way back into his brain and ask him what the problem was just as he announced last call. He avoided your eyes, often looking over your shoulders and keeping his lips pursed until you jutted your lip out in a pout and made your way behind the bar. You kept your arms crossed, pressed tight against your chest as he tried to explain through stammered sentences before he just blurted it out.

"Listen, you're great, okay? You're so funny and smart but I can't…we can't do this, Y/N. You have a boyfriend, and I just got out of a relationship...it's not going to work." Chan had rubbed his hands over his face at that moment, your eyes widening at the wild accusation slipping from his mouth. "You…you're so hot, please don't think I didn't–" "Chan…I don't have a boyfriend. Joshua is my roommate." You tried, but his brow furrowed. "No…I'm not talking about Shua. You guys live together? Isn't that weird?" He tilted his head, making you facepalm as he scrambled to correct himself. "I mean, that's not…I'm talking about Seungcheol. He said you two were a thing. Aren't you?" You froze then, your shoulders tensing under the moonlight as you tried to process what he had said. You glanced up at him, your brows knitted in the middle as you asked him to repeat himself.

"What?" "Seungcheol, the Hot Springs regular. He said the two of you have been dating for a few months." You choked on your spit at that, before looking across the park and seeing said stupid, idiotic, sexy Hot Springs regular having a casual conversation with Mingyu. The moonlight bounces off the water, the park nearly empty aside from a few tipsy students enjoying the lazy river under Soonyoung's supervision. Seungcheol was nodding along to whatever Mingyu was saying, before he suddenly tensed and looked over his shoulder – locking eyes with you. And that led you here – telling Mingyu that Chan needed his help filling the Cabana stock and leaving you alone to grit your teeth at Seungcheol.

"Mmh, serious about what?" He plays stupid, eyes all wide and lips pouty and he is so fucking stupid. You scoffed, "You've seriously got some nerve to think I'd ever date you. The weight of the sheer audacity you carry around must be fucking with your brain, because you had no right to lie to Chan and tell him we're together." Seungcheol hums, taking a sip from the contraband beer bottle that wasn't allowed near the bodies of water. You reach down, snatching it from his hand and tossing it into one of the recycling bins haphazardly before putting your hands on your hips. His face is feigning boredom, but his eyes are teeming with mischief and excitement as you scowl.

"Go tell him that you lied!" "And have yet another competitor in the running for the fair maiden's hand? Oh, I'd rather die of listeria." He shrugs, and you crouch down with a look of disgust on your face. "You'll die by my fucking hands if you don't make this right. I don't even like you, much less do I need you meddling where you don't belong." "With your hands, huh? You'd just love to touch me, wouldn't you? Look at you, lean a little more and you'd be on your knees for me." He rolls his eyes, and you clench your fist at your side so as to not smack him upside the head. "Just relax, sweetheart. He's not all sunshine and rainbows, anyway. The kid just got his heart broken, it wouldn't end well." "I think I deserve to find that out on my own!" "And I think you need someone who can handle all this lip you like to dish out. Chan is just too sweet, you'd bulldoze him."

"What, like you could? Please, try stand-up in your next life, not this one." You roll your eyes, and he leans over the edge of the hot spring with yet another bored look on his face.

"Are you done whining? Because I'm trying to relax." "Relax when you're dead, I'm trying to score and you're blocking my shot! Chan is cute–" "So are you, even when you're doing all this talking." You scowl, opening your mouth to tell him off when he lifts himself against the edge of the hot spring. He's eye level with you now, and you try not to look down at the soft muscle of his chest bulging against his shirt as you scoot back.

"Chan is not what you need, Barbie. Sure, he's cute, he makes you your fun little drinks, he's a great guy. I know, I practically raised the kid." Seungcheol leans closer, and you make the mistake of letting your eyes dart to his arms. His fingers are wrapped around the edge of the hot spring, biceps flexed as he holds himself up to you. He doesn’t speak until you force your eyes back up to his, the scowl on your lip only growing deeper as he smirks.

“You made all your assumptions about me around my hookups in college. Whatever they said is law, isn't it? Let’s not forget that you know nothing else about me, and you treat me like you hate me because of someone who isn't even in your life anymore. You could be on fire and Jaehee wouldn’t cross the street to piss on you, sweetheart.”

"And what, you would?” You mutter, and he actually laughs. The bastard chuckles like something is funny and it only makes your skin prickle.

“If that’s what you’re into—” “Fuck all the way off, would you? You think you’re hot shit and everyone wants you, well I don’t. What I want—”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, because Seungcheol catches your arm and yanks you into the hot spring in one swift move. You can feel rage bubbling in your throat as you swipe water off your face, seeing him resting his cheek on the heel of his palm.

“Slipped?” “I fucking hate you.” “Why?”

You don’t answer him, grimacing as you push your hair off your face. He swims closer, cornering you slightly. “Why, princess?”

“Don’t call me that. You’re a jerk, Seungcheol.”

“Am I a jerk because you hold onto battles that aren’t yours to fight or because I actually did something to hurt you? Because last I checked, we’ve spoken a total of zero times before you started working here, so it can’t possibly be the latter. Give me a good reason as to why you dislike me, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“I don’t need to explain shit to you. You’re purposely ruining my chances with Chan because you’re a dick. You call me Lifeguard Barbie, you make comments about my swimsuit—”

“You call me a whore because I slept around in college. If you took the time to talk to me and get to know me, you could have actual ammo to shoot at me. But everything is girl code this, girl code that, right?”

He’s too close for your senses to process, your stomach fluttering as you instinctively push a hand into his clothed chest.

“Back up.” His eyes glance down to your fingers splayed on his shirt, before flickering back up to your face.

"Name one thing you know about me besides the fact that I slept with Jaehee." "That you dumped her." "Wrong. She dumped me." You try not to react as you push your palm into the stone of a man. He doesn't budge, eyes searching your face before your fingers hover over his nipple with the intent to twist it – his fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling it away.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you. You could start something you know you can't finish." His voice is significantly lower, before letting your hand drop to your side. It splashes in the water, and you feel pathetically small as he towers over you. "Not everyone is who they were in college. Just because you might've peaked there, doesn't mean all of us did."

You feel a pang in your chest, your throat tightening slightly as you peer up at him through your lashes. He tilts his head, eyes soft as he speaks.

“You might not like me now, but you didn't give me a chance to begin with. Just let me know if you need someone to take care of you, hm?”

"You two better not start making out, Y/N is on the clock." Joshua's voice rings in your ears, and you feel your limbs fill with gratitude as you scowl. "As if."

Seungcheol lets you push him out of the way, not bothering to watch you pull yourself out of the hot spring as he strikes up a conversation with your roommate. "Are we still having a bonfire for Junhui this year? I managed to get his birthday weekend off, my coworkers are pissed." Joshua laughs that genuine laugh that you'd found comforting for so many years. You squeeze your hair out, fury still lingering in your throat with just a hint of hurt. Something felt weird in your chest, like the acknowledgement of you even existing in college and all the things that happened then makes your heart ache.

You'd agreed to host Junhui's birthday weekend at the cabin your grandfather left you in his will. He'd been there, still; when your parents made it a point to stretch the family ties so thin, even a gust of wind would tear through them and end them forever. You visited him often, going home with Joshua in tow with crates of fruit and cuts of meat he'd get up to grill on wobbly legs. He taught Joshua lots of things, but taught you the most valuable of all – your heart is to be guarded, but not to be solid.

To love and let love, lightly and deeply. To gather affection, to spread it, to be soft and understanding. To be complicit in the bettering of the world, and soften those who have become solid – while not understanding it to the point of solidifying yourself.

To listen, and give the benefit of the doubt.

You feel your heart sink as you walk past Joshua and Seungcheol without a word, not bothering to turn around when you hear Joshua calling after you – when you hear the announcement that the park was closing in five minutes. You beeline for your station, pulling a trash bag out from under your chair and silently moving around the park; picking up half-empty tanning lotions, mini sunscreen bottles, empty snow cone cups while you think about the fact that Junhui's birthday is in two weeks and you're going to have to house thirteen men once Jeonghan gets back.

Which (unfortunately) doesn't include girlfriends aside from Junhui and Minghao, because all your friends are bitchless.

The night ends without you reporting back to Chan, your arms crossed on your chest as you walk into the parking lot silently. You see Joshua and Seungcheol still talking, both men leaned against the back of Joshua's car. Joshua is twirling his keys in his hand, a move you stop by taking them out and sliding into the driver's seat without a word. You rest your head against the seat, sighing before you hear Joshua's voice cut through the slightly rolled window.

"What did you say to her? She's never that quiet. I swear to God–" "Relax, I didn't say anything that didn't need to be said. She wants to believe that I'm the big bad wolf, when you and I both know Jaehee dumped me because she didn't want to be with someone on the soccer team after she dated Brian. Jaehee herself said it would look bad, I was crushed but of course, Y/N doesn't know that. And she doesn't need to know."

Your name sounds so foreign on his lips…but it sounds sweet. Like a cold drink after a long day…like he liked the taste of it on his tongue.

And you think about those words as Joshua makes you move to the passenger seat and drives the two of you home. You remain silent, staring out the window, eventually mumbling something about a shower and finding refuge under scalding hot water and minty shampoo. You find yourself in bed before the clock even hits eleven, your arm draped across your eyes – and you can't sleep.

Unfortunately, the flame of shame due to hating someone that you hardly know over someone you used to know is starting to lick up your back. Someone that has been vouched for over and over again by several people…and they can't all be wrong.

"Merry Christmas." You look up from your pillow to see Joshua toss the same pink vibrator on your bed with a soft smile. He holds up a paper check in his hand, and you just shake your head as you pull your covers higher. You sigh, before feeling the bed dip and Joshua's aftershave fills your nose.

"What's eating you, hm?" "You know what." He scoots closer, his fingers swiping stray curls out of your face as he hums. "He's not a bad guy. I have never steered you wrong, have I?" "You've steered me into your bed a couple times." "The first time was in your bed." "Same difference." He snorts, holding himself up on his elbow as you chew on your cheek. You let out a breath, closing your eyes as you rub a hand over your face. He nudges you, a sigh slipping from your mouth.

"I know he's not a bad guy. Somewhere…deep down, I understand." "Then?" "He's still a guy who slept around, and with a lot of my friends. I've heard more about his stroke game than about him as a person." "So the objectification of Choi Seungcheol is going to be your demise?" Joshua jests, making you snort as you shake your head. "I…You remember my old man? When he would start a fire in the pit and we'd all sit around with beer and he'd make us split one because we weren't supposed to be drinking it anyway?" You smile fondly at the memory, glancing up at Joshua to see him doing the same thing.

"Yeah." "And you remember what he said to me? Every time you and I would get into a weird scuffle or something?" He nods again, "Your heart is to be guarded, but not to be solid. I still think about it sometimes." "I don't like Seungcheol. He's…arrogant." "He's not. He's confident, but even the mighty fall." You shake your head, "Maybe I was wrong to hate him from the start, but he's only proven I was right to do so. You know he told Chan that he and I are dating? I was so close to hitting that, Shua. So close!" "Chan just got out of a relationship, and you know how you are. You'd want more, and he wouldn't be able to give you that." Joshua laments, patting your shoulder as you pout.

You think about how you’ve never wanted more with Joshua for a split second, before an odd feeling of guilt settles in your lower belly. "Yeah, but it still would've been good." "I don't want to think about that, Y/N." He snorts, and you let out a weak laugh as you shake your head again. "I don't want him at the cabin, Shua. I know he's…I know you guys are friends, and I know Junhui is flying in for this but I just…I can't shake the feeling that something might happen." He sits up, brow furrowed. "Something might happen? Like what?" You wince, gazing up at him meekly. "I throw a piece of lit firewood at him?" He bites back his smile, hovering over you. "You're not going to do that. You're too nice." "Are you saying I'm all bark? Because I'll have you know–" "Oh, I know you can bite, trust me." You don't like the glint in his eye, scowling as he snickers. "But you know better, and you'll behave yourself because Junhui is flying in to celebrate with us when he could very well stay home. This is important to all of us, and you're going to be a gracious host. Stuff him full of those jalapeño poppers you make and everything will be fine."

He pats your head, "And if anything, I'll be there. You know I've got you."

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your hairline before pulling your duvet backup over your shoulders. "Get some rest, okay? Stop worrying about Seungcheol, any more thoughts about him and you might start liking him." "As if."

Joshua quirks a brow, "We both know he's exactly your type. All big arms and thick thighs and he can put you in your place." You scoff, sitting up on your elbows, the strap of your tank top falling down your shoulder. "He is not my type! My type is nice boys who blush when I flirt with them and Chan giggles, Shua! He giggles and now I can't fuck him because I refuse to be a man’s rebound!" You groan as you fall back on your pillows, only hearing Joshua laugh as he slides off your bed. He grabs your foot over the blanket, nearly cackling as you jerk it out of his hold.

"You'll live, Y/N. And remember," He grabs the pink vibrator from where it landed between your legs. "No more of this nonsense. Sixty. Dollars. Set them aside, take them out of the bank, but you're paying that bill." "Ooh, don't arrest me officer. I might like the cuffs." Your voice is full of sarcasm as you move to take it from him, his hand catching your wrist. You raise a brow, only for him to give you a pointed look. You roll your eyes, biting back a smirk as you speak.

"Alright, alright! I'll just use your money, instead." "Like hell you will, I already pay your student loans." He snorts, letting you go and holding the toy out. You take it, shoving it under your pillow as you snicker. "And I am ever so grateful, my wonderful provider. You're such a man, rawr." "You're something else." He rolls his eyes, turning on his heel. “I have the weekend off to start prepping things for the party, so please be civil if you bump into Seungcheol.”

You sigh, bringing your duvet to your chin and turning on your side.

“Goodnight, Shua.” “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Joshua wasn’t lying — he was ‘out of office’ on Friday and Saturday. You had a closing shift on Sunday, so you managed to snag a few episodes of Gossip Girl with him before he made you write down everything that would be needed for the party. Not a peep from Seungcheol, just a grim nod that made you wonder if Joshua had said something to him – and you noticed he arrived only moments after you clocked in.

Almost like he knew your schedule.

“Do not drink, I’m not sure how late I’ll be and I don’t want you driving tipsy.” Joshua had been stern earlier that afternoon, holding your keys high above your head as you tied your coverup around your hips. He handed your keys over, hopping back into his car with a Costco-stock of beer and liquor before pulling out of the parking lot with a soft wave.

And now, you are here. Twenty minutes to closing, not a single interaction with Seungcheol tonight aside from checking him in. You had a bit of a scuffle with a group of friends from the local college, but you easily stood your ground and kicked them out of the park. Aside from that, you had no distractions and you were not flirting with Chan. It seems as though the universe made the decision for you, and all suggestive comments and blushy cheeks went out the window; replaced with Chan mentioning Junhui’s party after you asked if he would be busy that weekend.

“You know Junhui, too?” “You’re not serious, Y/N.”

As it turns out: Seungcheol is not the only person you were unaware of in your friend group, though he had a deeper connection through Jeonghan and Joshua. Chan was apparently a floater — sometimes too busy for the gathered group activities but still an integral and valued part of the friendship. You were just too in your own head half the time to notice, and the other half you spent shotgunning beers with Mingyu.

You told Chan about the plan to host at the cabin, and that you’d come by in a few days with the address and any final requests for food and drinks. You talked until he closed the Cabana, before bidding him a good night and strolling through the park with your hands behind your back. It was empty for five minutes before you reached the Hot Springs, seeing Seungcheol with a grimace on his face as he eased out of the water.

You stopped, feeling his name heavy on your tongue before you cleared your throat – but he beat you to it.

"You here to save me, princess?" “Here to tell you the park's closed, dipshit. Gotta go, Choi.”

He only smirks, leaning back on his hands. The moonlight shines on the pale skin of his thighs and arms, still dripping with water. You wonder how he doesn’t prune up — but it’s Choi Seungcheol. He probably made some deal with the devil to remain perfect forever.

“Five minutes.” You call over your shoulder as you continue your stroll through the section, peeking around every wall and even circling the lazy river twice in case there’s some odd couple making out under the Lover’s Bridge in the corner. You make your way back to the Hot Springs, seeing Seungcheol has disappeared.

A bit of disappointment fills your chest, but you continue on your way back to the entrance of the section and slip out, making your way to the office. You grab your bag, pulling a pair of shorts over your waist and ditching the coverup into the depths of your bag. You fumble with your keys, checking the logs to make sure everyone’s signed out before doing the same thing yourself.

You murmur soft goodbyes to the custodians that you pass while making your way towards the parking lot, swinging your keys around your finger as you slide out from behind the gate. There are only two other cars in the lot aside from yours — a white pick-up truck that’s way too lifted for a city car with two guys lounging in the bed, parked right in front of the water park. There is a sleek black car parked a few spots from your little Volkswagen, someone leaning against the passenger side and facing into the empty parking lot. You make it a point not to make eye contact with the pair who are smoking cigarettes on the truck. Your car is only a two or three minute walk, and you keep your eyes forward.

However, the sound of their lighters flickering isn’t enough to distract them as you make your way past their truck. A whistle is heard, and you see the person leaning against their car flinch slightly before a slurred voice rings out.

“Hey, pretty girl. Can I get your number?”

Your shoulders tense, but you don’t look back as you tighten your hand around your keys. Silence fills the air before you hear feet hit the ground. You feel your legs move slightly faster, before the person leaning against the black car turns around and locks eyes with you.

Seungcheol.

“I said hello.” “I have a boyfriend. Leave me alone.”

You’re lying. You’re lying like a fucking dog and you're sure he can tell by the tremble in your voice; but it doesn’t matter because Seungcheol’s eyes narrow slightly as he pushes off the side of the car. His hands are tucked inside the pocket of his sweatshirt, and he rounds the front of the car. He walks towards you, his jaw tight as he keeps his eyes trained on whichever of the men decided to trail behind you. You practically run to him, your hand instinctively gripping the front of his sweatshirt as his arm wraps around your shoulders.

You appreciate the way a feeling of security blankets over you, his fingers brushing your neck as he nestles his hand across the back of it. He pulls you close, the footsteps that had been behind you stopping. You hear his tongue click above you, before he speaks..

"Juwon? Cha Juwon?" Juwon makes a sound of confusion, "How do you know my name?" You glance up to see Seungcheol's eyebrows furrow, "Because I know your father. I also know you play soccer for Yonsei and you got a full scholarship to their engineering program. What the fuck do you think you're doing? Do you think the committee would be happy to know you're being a fucking creep?"

You peer at Juwon, his eyes wide as he takes a step back. "I don't want any problems–" "It's a little late for that, don't you think? You can kiss your scholarship goodbye. Stop being a fucking loser that makes girls uncomfortable and can't take no for an answer. Get the hell out of here and don't come back." Seungcheol barks, your fingers tightening on the material of his sweatshirt as the man's jaw drops. He quickly turns on his heel, sprinting back to the pick-up where his friend is staring open-mouthed. Juwon doesn't wait for the guy to get in the car, cranking the engine and speeding out of the parking lot as he manages to close the tailgate.

You watch in silence, before realizing how hot your face is. Clearing your throat, you awkwardly pat the spot on his sweatshirt that you'd been gripping and start to pull away.

"Are you okay?" He murmurs, his hand not moving from the back of your neck as he peers down at you. You shift, "Yeah. Fine, sorry." "You're not the one that should be sorry." He shakes his head. "Do you want me to tail you home? Just so I know you got in safe, because I know Shua's not home."

"How do you know that?" "He asked me to keep an eye out for you. I haven't left the park before you have until tonight."

He shrugs, and you feel a frown tug at your lips. "He's such a dad." "He cares. So…yes or no? Either way I'm gonna do it." He shrugs again, a small smile on his lips as you sigh. You nibble on your lip, before running a shaky hand over your face and nodding reluctantly. "Fine." "Or…I could just take you home. I'll have someone pick up your car, free of charge." There's a lilt to his voice, and you tongue your cheek. "We can drive around or something while you wait for Shua to get home. I'll feel better about it, and I'll know you're safe." "Why are you being nice to me? We're not friends." You mutter, looking at the ground. He hums, his shoe nudging the toe of your sandals making you look up. "I don't think you understand that you're the only one with a problem. I have no issue with you, much less do I focus on any of the negative things I've heard about you. So what if I was a slut in college? If you bothered to get to know me, you'd know I'm California Celibate." You snort, feeling the release of tension from your chest as you shake your head. "That's not a thing, and that doesn't make it any better." "It is so a thing! And there's no way it doesn't make it better, especially if that's your main issue with me." He tilts his head, eyeing your face gently. "I know you can't really be that mad that I slept with Jaehee. There has to be something deeper." "Like you ruining my chances with Chan?" "Like me bugging the shit out of you because you're cute when you're angry." You scowl, hating the way your stomach flutters as he smiles widely. "Come on. And then you can actually get to know me, instead of basing all your feelings about me on a failed relationship from college." He doesn't give you a chance to refute it, because some glint in his eye makes your face grow hot as you cross your arms on your chest. "That sounds a lot like a date." "If it were a date…you don't seem like you'd be too opposed." He chides over his shoulder, and you're foolishly following behind him. You frown, and he only shakes his head as he rounds the front of his car once more, opening the passenger side swiftly. Of course – of course Choi Seungcheol is a fucking gentleman.

"I am opposed." You grumble, before slipping into the seat. The car smells so nice – hints of patchouli and bergamot and the sweetness of pineapple. You reach to close the door, only to be stopped by Seungcheol's hand on the outside handle. He peers down at you, before crouching down to meet your eyes.

"I can change that." "I have a boyfriend."

"Yeah, me, apparently." He smirks, before standing up right and closing the door gently. You run your fingers through your hair, closing your eyes as you lean your head back on the seat. He gets in the car quietly, shoving his keys into the ignition and turning the engine over before you open your eyes.

"Why'd you even start working at the park? Joshua always said you'd never work here." He asks softly as he makes a quick turn out of the parking lot, and you sigh. "You can't laugh if I tell you." "You can always lie, because I can't promise you I won't laugh." He jests, making you snort as you tiredly cross your legs at the knee. "I got let go from my job, the clerical one. He wasn't upset, Shua, but I was. And then we had somewhat of a fight because I forgot to pay the light bill in favor of buying myself a little something." You shrug, and he rolls to a stop at a red light. "A little something?" You give him a pointed look through tired eyes, "A big something. Hot pink, battery powered with sixteen settings that make you see stars and suddenly everything is okay in the world. Melatonin with a twist, I'd say." He bites his lip, his eyes crinkling at the corner as he looks away. You snicker to yourself, shaking your head as you look out the windshield. The sky is clear, the moonlight very bright through the dense trees that line the road leading back to the inner city. "What is California Celibate?" You ask suddenly, tilting your head to look at him as he tongues his cheek. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, before shrugging.

"It means I only do what I like." "Oh, so you're just annoying by choice. Got it." He chuckles softly as you roll your eyes. "Casual sex just isn't my thing; it wasn't even in college. It's just…the general foreplay. I like the build up, oral and whatnot. Kissing is fun, too." "Oh, you're such a whore." "Mmh, I like it when you talk dirty. But, I haven't slept with anyone since before I went to nationals and got hurt. I just…stopped, I didn't have the energy to do anything. Much less have sex that made me feel…used." You don't let him see the way your eyes widen. You make an exaggerated gagging sound as he snickers, his fingers flicking his turn signal.

The drive is quiet for a little while, the road winding as he takes you through the wooded area you'd grown up in. You don't mind it, the map on his dashboard GPS still showing your house as the destination no matter the turns you take.

"I'm sorry about your hip, by the way." You speak up, and he shrugs. "Thanks. It's just life, though. It took a lot for me to get over it, but I could either wallow in the resentment or get off my ass and do something with my life. I chose the latter." "Mmh. What are you doing now? What did you major in?" "I'm in grad school currently, and I'm working at a massage spa for the time being. I'm trying to open a business in the future, I think I'd do well in sports therapy and shit like that. I want to work with athletes who have the same situation as me. I don't want to get sappy but it's one of the harshest realities that can hit someone who thinks their life is set in stone, you know?" You feel your heart warm a bit, and you can't bite back your smile as you cover it with your hand. He glances at you, brow raised. "What?" "Nothing. That's nice." He brakes gently, pulling over before putting the car in park. "Tell me."

"It's just cute. To see you care, I guess. Having fuckboy tendencies and a big heart sounds kind of like it's out of a movie. It's not real." He tilts his head, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips. "Cute?" "Don't let it get to your head." You warn, running your hands up and down your arms. His eyes follow the movement, before he unbuckles his seatbelt and pulls his sweatshirt over his head. He holds it out to you, and you shake your head. "I'm fine." He silently presses the button to release your seatbelt, making you huff as you take the sweatshirt and tug it over your head. "It's gonna smell like chlorine." "Washing machines exist." "So does turning the heat on." "But you'd look so pretty in my clothes, sweetheart." You tongue your cheek as he winks, leaning back into his seat and buckling himself in. He moves to fiddle with the shift gear, before pausing and looking back at you.

"Would it make you more comfortable if I wasn't at Junhui's birthday celebration next weekend?" Your eyes widen, "Did Joshua say something to you?" He shrugs, tonguing his cheek. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, especially in a place you've grown up in and have good memories in. I'd hate to sully that for you, if–" "Oh, I'm sorry." You interrupt, rubbing at your face haphazardly. "I'm just in my own head sometimes. I was telling Joshua that I was worried about it because I…" His eyes are soft as he searches your face. "Because you…what?" "I don't like being wrong." You mumble, picking at your nails. "I hate being wrong, actually. So much so that I've had arguments with Shua that last weeks so I don't have to apologize. And if you went, and I saw that everyone vouched for you the way Shua and Jeonghan do, I'd have to give you a chance. I'd have to admit that I jumped the gun, and it's just not something I'm good at. Especially not in front of Shua, because…well, he's Shua." He twists in his seat, "What if you apologize now? Just you and me." You roll your eyes, "What, and you won't tell anyone? I'm not five, Seungcheol." "Cheol." "What?" "Call me Cheol. Seungcheol feels too…formal. Choi Seungcheol, too. Don't like it."

"Anything else, Your Highness?" You scoff, and he smiles as he leans over the center console. "I mean, I'm partial to baby. Honey, even, if you're feeling nasty."

You roll your eyes, looking at him with a brow raised. He returns the look, shamelessly looking at your lips before tilting his head. "What's going on with you and Joshua?" "Nothing." Your answer comes out too fast, and it makes him smile. "Nothing? Or nothing you want to admit to?" "I have nothing to admit to. The guy is my roommate, he pays my bills and signs a fat check for my student loans because he loves me. That's my guy." You shrug, feigning nonchalance as he leans slightly closer, his cologne filling your nose slightly. Same patchouli…same bergamot and sweet, sweet pineapple. He doesn't look like he believes you, and you sigh. "Just ask. Go on." "You haven't slept with him?" "I have." "How many times?"

"I'll answer your question with another one. Why does it matter?" You lean into him, and he shrugs. "It doesn't. Just curious." "Mmh." You hum, your cheeks growing hot as his tongue swipes over his lips again, his eyes trained on the soft pout on yours. "Do you want to kiss me or something?" He smiles, "Depends on if you'd kiss me back." "No." He immediately feigns disgust, turning his nose up, "Ew, who would ever kiss you? That's so gross, and you smell like chlorine. I bet you don't even know how to kiss!"

You gape, a laugh bubbling from the back of your throat as you cover your mouth to muffle the sound. Your shoulders shake as you hold the laughter in, only to look over and see him smiling, almost fondly.

"But I could teach you."

"Like hell you will. Take me home." You manage to spit out, his face contorting into one of disappointment as he scoffs. "You could take me to dinner first, you know. I'm not just a good fuck–" "To my house! I'm sure Shua is home and I have to be up early for my shift." You huff, fanning at your face with your hands as he puts the car in drive with a grin. You wipe at your eyes as he pulls back onto the road, a soft blush on his cheeks as he follows the GPS to a T. It's silent, but it's comfortable – even as you make it to the apartment in twenty minutes to see Joshua still hasn't arrived.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, turning to face him.

"I'm sorry for making assumptions about you and being a jerk. It was unfair of me." You admit softly, and he only shakes his head. "It is what it is. You had your reasons." "They weren't very justifiable reasons, I think. Either way, I'm sorry." "Mmh. Do you want me to wait? I don't like the idea of you being here alone." "Nothing's going to happen to me, you know. I know how to defend myself, but I'll stay for the sake of your sanity." You roll your eyes, and he smiles softly. "I'm sure you do, princess. Thank you for being so considerate." You scoff, "I do! And for the record, I'm an excellent kisser. I don't need you to teach me shit."

The smirk on his lips makes your cheeks warm as he shakes his head.

"Mhm." The car is quiet, your head leaned against the seat before you turn to him. He's staring at the front door, almost as though he's expecting someone to walk through it.

"Is Jaehee the reason you started sleeping around in college? To mend your broken heart and whatnot?" He doesn't stiffen, or seem bothered as he turns to look at you. His eyes are conflicted, and he shrugs.

"I was sleeping around before Jaehee. All the newfound freedom being away from home paired with the fact that some sorority girls really, really like athletes…it got to my head. I got ahead of myself, and I wasn't really looking for a relationship. Jaehee was, but she realized it wasn't the best idea to keep dating within a certain circle. That was the end of it." You nod, clasping your hands in your lap. "I wonder what that's like." "What?" "Sleeping around. Does it make you feel…I don't know, icky? Used, like you said?" "It did. I mean, I was in the mindset of just needing that rush of recklessness, I guess. But the sweat dries, and you still feel like shit after." He nods, tonguing his cheek. "You…dated Wonpil, right? On the baseball team?"

You nod, a soft frown donned on your lips as you scrunch your nose at him. "For three years. Two in college and one after. We broke up for a multitude of reasons, but life goes on and you find other things to worry about, and I missed the freedom I had before we got together. I spent so much time just hanging around and going to movies, to concerts, I even worked at a fried chicken place with Soonyoung and gorged myself on biscuits. In a relationship…you have to answer to somebody and it takes a lot of your time." "Isn't that the best part of it all, though? Spending time with someone you know cares?" "I have friends who care, and I spend my time with them." "What about your family?" You stiffen slightly, your jaw tight as you clear your throat. "I uh…I don't talk to them. Haven't since after high school graduation." "I'm sorry."

You just shake your head, shrugging before turning in your seat. "It's just a sore subject, not your fault. I think…I'm gonna head inside now. I'm sure Shua will be home any minute and he'll start asking too many questions if he sees me get out of your car." He nods quickly, "Sure. Have a good night, I'll get your car here by morning."

You smile, popping the door open slightly. You let it hang open, before leaning over the center console. "Thanks for helping me out back there, and for the ride…Cheol." He turns to face you, eyes widening a bit when he realizes how close you are but he doesn't back away. His smile is soft, glancing at your lips before he speaks. "Anytime."

"Goodnight." You mumble, pressing your lips to his cheek quickly before slipping out of the car and shutting the door. You don't look back, your cheeks hot as you fish your keys out of your bag with shaky hands and shove the house key into the lock.

The air in the apartment is cool – but it's not cool enough as you lock the door behind you and slide down it. You groan, gently banging the back of your head against the wooden door. You don't hear Seungcheol's car pull out of the lot, you're sure he's waiting for Joshua to arrive before he leaves.

You don't want to hear anything from the mouth of your roommate – so you push off the floor and beeline for your bathroom. You look at yourself in the mirror – before putting your head in your hands.

"So stupid."

"ARE YOU JUST GOING TO KEEP IGNORING ME?"

It's been four days since Seungcheol dropped you off at home – and you feel weird.

You can't focus for shit and your heart races a mile a minute every time you see him wink at you and you can't breathe if he's in the break room. Why the fuck is he even in the break room? Who let him in? How do you get him out? How do you get him in your bed? Stop.

"Mhm." You hum, nodding your head as you flip through yet another magazine. The sector was unusually empty for a Thursday night; but you were on break, laying out on the edge of the pool. Your foot was dipped into the water, swirling around as you used the magazine to block out the rearing moonlight – and he was oddly floating by your side, his crossed arms on the edge of the pool and nearly touching your arm. "Tch, that's too bad, princess. I would've asked you to get a drink with me." You try not to smile, cracking your gum as you flip onto the next page of your magazine, "I wouldn't get a drink with you if you were the President."

"I would hope you don't like wrinkly old men, but I digress. Come on, at least look at me."

You put the magazine on your chest with a groan, crossing your arms over your eyes before speaking.

"Seungcheol, if you're going to keep bothering me, you're going to have to get out and go to another pool." "Or, you could get in." "Seungcheol." "Come on, just a dip. We can talk, get better acquainted." He whines, and you snort. You lift your arm up, your heart catapulting it's way to your ass as you scoff. "I'd get better acquainted with a rock."

"Jeonghan has a rock he keeps in his room. Says it's his pet."

"Ugh, Seungcheol." You groan, splaying your arms out as he chuckles. "Sound so pretty when you say my name, princess. Let me hear it again." You scowl, sitting up on your elbows. "You're fucking insufferable." He feigns offense, a hand on his chest as he turns his nose up. "I'd never make you suffer at my hands, pretty. Pleasure pool only."

You gape, before rolling your magazine up and smacking his shoulder with it. "Leave me alone! I'm supposed to be on a break from my grueling job and you're over here drooling like a dog. Go away!" "But I'll miss you when I'm gone." He sounds so pitiful, you almost believe it until you see the hint of a smirk on his lips. You hit him with the magazine again, before scrambling to your feet and huffing. "Leave me alone!"

His laughter fills your ears as you walk away, a whistle making you throw the magazine at him. You don't really mean it. You don't, and you hate that in less than a month, he managed to get under your skin and implant himself in your brain. You don't like the fact that you so willingly got into his car on Sunday night, you don't like the fact that he made you laugh so hard in his passenger seat, and you don't like that you let your intrusive thoughts let you plant a fat one on his cheek before you ultimately ran from the problem (him) and into the sanctity of your apartment where a certain battery powered object awaited you and your running mind.

Joshua had been in and out of the park for the last few days, and hadn't gotten a chance to catch you alone despite his pointed looks. He was the one who signed at the door when your car was delivered by whatever mystery tow company Seungcheol had, and he even called your phone twice before finding you passed out in your bedroom with your phone on the nightstand. You managed to slip out of the apartment before he could ask any questions since Monday, and you could tell he was growing frustrated as you spotted him across the park.

"Y/N!" His voice rang through the park just as you turned on your heel, eager to return to the odd solace of Seungcheol's teasing. You grimace, running a hand over your face as you turn to see him walking your way with a look on his face that says what has gotten into you?

And you don't know, but you certainly know what you'd like to get into you.

Stop it.

"Hey, Shua. What's up?" Your voice is tight, but the way he crosses his arms makes it seem like you're in trouble. "What's up? Is that really what you're leading with?" You clear your throat, "What are you talking about?"

He rolls his eyes, leaning closer, "You like Seungcheol." You gasp, "How dare you! I would never like a scum-sucking harlot like Choi Seungcheol." "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Barbie." You hear Seungcheol's voice near you, scowling as he winks before making his way past you to the cabana. You scrunch your nose at the deliciously broad expanse of his shoulders, before looking up at Joshua – who looks skeptical.

"Right…anyway. Junhui and Jeonghan are flying in tonight, and I'm leaving early to pick them up." He starts, and you watch the way he looks over his shoulder at the cabana. "You can…get a ride home, right? I mean…don't think I don't know that you hitched one with Cheol on Sunday." You groan, running your hand over your face. "I had no choice." "Your car was running perfectly fine when you went to work on Monday." "Maybe I got it fixed and that's why it got delivered." "Maybe our Ring camera showed the two of you sitting in front of our apartment for twenty minutes before you kissed his cheek." The Ring camera.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling your face grow hot in embarrassment as Joshua chuckled above you. "You like him." "I do not! I was merely apologizing for being a jerk, okay? God forbid a girl apologizes to her…to…you know what I mean!" "I don't believe I do, sweetheart. But, I'll leave you to it, and I expect you guys to be safe." "I am not going to fuck Choi Seungcheol, Joshua." You grumble, but the confidence in your voice is questionable as Joshua envelopes you into a soft embrace. You begrudgingly wrap your arms around his waist, "Drive safe." "I will. I'm really sorry to leave you like this, but at least now I know he'll get you home safe." He murmurs in your ear, before planting a kiss on the side of your head. "I'll see you at home, okay? I'll be late, so don't wait up." "Bye, Shua." You pull yourself from his arms, before feeling his hand pat your back as he skirts around you. You sigh, not managing to catch the way Seungcheol's eyes had narrowed at the prolonged contact between you and your roommate. Not that he cared, he didn't.

You spend the rest of your shift avoiding Seungcheol more, scrunching your nose at his winks and smirks and stupid fucking shoulders that you wanted to sink your teeth into.

You want to say you don't know where the 180° came from, but you do. You know that the jokes in his car, the soft discussion of what he wants for the future and what he aspires to inspire…the understanding that he was human, too…all of it. All of it contributed to the weird buzzing in your limbs when you caught a whiff of his cologne as he passed by or the way your shoulders tensed when you heard the lilt of flirting in his voice as he snuck up on you.

It's only worsened by how well he fills out his stupid clothes, the material of his shirts straining against those arms that make you want to pass out. Your skin prickles when you hear the intercom crackle, announcing the park has officially closed just as you start making rounds to see if there are any stragglers. Your pace is quick, your feet bare against the hot cement and rounding corners with a speed only God could rival.

…Until you slam right into Seungcheol's chest.

"Shit, sorry–" "What are you running from?"

He winces, rubbing the heel of his palm against his chest where your shoulder hit. You have a sheepish look on your face, "Sorry, I'm doing rounds." "I can tell. Warn a guy." "Well if you had left like everyone else did–" "You wouldn't have a ride home. Let's not play this game, beautiful."

You tongue your cheek, crossing your arms when you feel his fingers under your chin.

"Are you really going to ignore me like this? I thought we were forming a connection. You wound me, babe." "I am not your babe."

You swat his hand away, only for him to catch your wrist and pull you close. "You could be." You let out a noise of frustration, "If you're going to stop me from doing my job, I can't go home. If you really care, you'll go wait in the car." He smiles, your stomach fluttering like an idiot as he runs his eyes over your face. He tilts his head, his voice soft as his fingers loosen around your wrist. "What if I want to walk with you?"

"Seungcheol." "A little louder, princess." You smack his chest, "Get out! Let me do my job!" He laughs as he squeezes your wrist gently before dropping it. "I'll be at the gate." "Fine, whatever." You cross your arms as you skirt around him, your chest tightening as you realize that come tomorrow afternoon – you'd be stuck in a cabin with him and all your friends. Him, and his shoulders and his lips that are so plump and kissable and his stupid thighs that look like they could crush a watermelon–

"Stop it, Y/N. Jesus Christ, it's like you're a Victorian man." You mutter to yourself as you round the Lazy River, your eyes darting all over it. "Stupid man and his stupid…hot body and his dumb face and I hate him." The grumbling doesn't stop as you make your way into the office, grateful that today was a day you stayed out of the pool (aside from your leg) and you duck into one of the bathrooms to change into a t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts, nearly tripping as you tug a pair of underwear over your ankles. Your eyes fall on Seungcheol's sweatshirt at the bottom of your bag, and you tongue your cheek before pulling it out and tugging it over your head.

You clock out accordingly, making sure to greet the custodians as you walk by them, shoving your hands in the pocket of the sweatshirt when you hear soft whistling at the gate. Your eyes flicker up to see Seungcheol leaning against the brick wall, swinging his keys around his finger and typing a text with one hand. He shoots it off, tucking his phone into his pocket when you open the gate. "Who was that?" You ask abruptly, locking the gate behind you as he raises a brow.

"Who was who, babe?" "On your phone, and I'm not your babe." You turn back to see him smiling, running his tongue over his teeth as he shakes his head.

"No one, sweetheart." "Right…no one." You roll your eyes, crossing your arms on your chest as you start walking into the empty parking lot. His car is a few feet away, and you quickly make your way over to it when you feel your phone start buzzing in your pocket. You pull it out, seeing Joshua's contact flashing across the screen. You answer it, putting it on speaker and static noise fills the air.

"Yo." "Hey. Did you get a ride with Cheol like I said?" Seungcheol tilts his head at you as you lean against the hood of his car. You roll your eyes, "Yeah. He's standing right here, looking like an idiot as usual." Joshua's laughter is heard through the static of the call, "Be nice to him, he's doing you a favor. I just got to the airport, this place is fucking packed. I'll call you when I'm on the way home, okay?" "Yeah, Shua. I'll see you." "See you, sweetheart. Be nice!" You hang up, shoving your phone back into your pocket and looking to see Seungcheol's jaw a bit tight. You raise a brow, but don't manage to speak as he opens the door. "Hop to, princess. I've got to deliver you home before this carriage turns into a pumpkin." "Do you also turn back into a rat or is that just my wishful thinking?" He snorts, "Get in the car."

You smile inwardly as you do so, his hand softly shutting the door behind you. You watch as he rounds the front of the car, before slipping into the driver's side and cranking the ignition. His fingers fiddle with the dashboard, before you hear the click of the doors locking and his seatbelt being clicked in. Your eyes close as you lean back onto the headrest, crossing your legs at the knee.

You expect him to pull off, but you open one eye to see him fishing his phone out of his pocket. He tongues his cheek, reading something on the screen before turning it off and tossing it into his backseat. "What's that about?" "You really are the jealous type, huh? Cute."

He smiles cheekily, pulling out of the parking lot as you frown.

"I am not jealous of anything. I am…merely concerned." "Aw, you care about me, princess?"

His pout is mocking you as you scowl, "I cannot believe I'm going to be locked in the middle of the woods with you for the weekend. Junhui better appreciate the ground I walk on for the rest of his life." Seungcheol smiles softly, "It is very kind of you to put up with so many people for a weekend. Especially when a handful of them saw that nip slip last year." "Oh my God, they will not let that go. So what, I have nipples. Shua has literally…" You trail off, seeing his brows slightly furrowed as he flicks on his turn signal. You clear your throat, "They're just boobs. They act like we're virgins from the 18th century." "Mhm." He nods, tapping the gear shift at a random rhythm. You follow his fingers, only to see his other hand white-knuckling the bottom of the steering wheel. "What made you room with Joshua, anyway?"

You shrug, "He's all I have left, I guess. My family and I…are complicated, and Joshua helped me through all that. All our friends are still waiting for us to get together but it's literally never going to happen. Just because we slept together–" "Right, right." He interrupts, and you raise a brow. "Anyway, there is nothing romantic there. Shua's great and all but we both admit that desperate times called for desperate measures." "Mhm." His lips are pressed into a tight line as he turns into the same road lined with dense trees. You tilt your head, before leaning forward in your seat.

"Are you alright? You're gripping the wheel awfully tight." "Ah, sorry. Sometimes I don't notice."

He clears his throat, loosening his grip on the wheel. You lean back cautiously, before closing your eyes. The car is silent, before you hear the click of his tongue.

"If you have something to say–" "Are you sure there isn't anything romantic between the two of you? I mean, I wouldn't room with a girl and take care of her like Shua takes care of you unless I had feelings for her."

You try not to let a frown fight its way onto your lips, remembering Jeonghan's voice in your head.

"You guys need to stop sleeping together, eventually someone is going to come along and you'll have to explain that weird ass dynamic."

"Yeah, you have a point." "So?"

You feel the car jerk to a halt, before you notice you're now pulling over into the same spot from Sunday night. The trees hide the car perfectly but you still get a stream of moonlight, and he puts the car in park to face you, unbuckling his seatbelt. You do the same, before you let your tongue dart out to wet your lips and a sigh slips out.

"Shua is the only person I have that has seen me go through it all. He met my grandparents, he helps me out more than anyone ever has. He helps me just turn my brain off and not worry about anything. I appreciate him as a roommate, and a friend. There is nothing romantic, and it's only been three times that we've slept together. I don't think we'll sleep together again, it's going to be too hard to explain if anyone were to come along and want to be with either of us romantically. 'Hey, my best friend that lives with me, pays my student loans and all my bills also fucked me on the couch you're sitting on. Isn't that funny?'"

He nods, tonguing his cheek. His fingers trace the grooves in the gear shift, PRNDL.

"Why did you kiss me on Sunday?" "Lapse in judgment. Don't make it sound like we made out, you literally said I'd be a bad kisser." "You said you weren't."

He leans on the center console, chin in his hand as he peers up at you through his lashes. You don't like the way your throat feels dry at the pleading look, possibly intentional…possibly not.

You force a scoff, "Because I'm not."

He tilts his head, "How do you expect me to believe that without proof?" "You want me to prove to you that I'm not a bad kisser." "Mhm." "And you want to do this right before we're going to be locked in a cabin together for a weekend with all our friends?" His smile is soft as he nods, "Who said they have to know?" "They will. They always know when someone in the group is getting some, that's how bitchless everyone is." "You're not getting anything, I just want to see if you're a bad kisser." "This is exactly how Jeonghan got Jeon Minseo to date him for three years, you know." "You just love talking about other guys." He rolls his eyes, and you scoff. "And you're putting the moves on me! You don't even like me! How are you not still a whore that I should be wary of?"

"You don't know if I like you or not." He says, "you don't know how to ask questions, only make assumptions based on dated misinformation." "Why would I ask you if you like me when I don't like you? Let's not forget, you cockblocked me! I could be getting the pipe of my life right now!" You scold him, and a small smirk pulls at his lips.

"I mean, I could break my celibacy–" "Don't piss me off." "Then shut me up."

You only realize how close he is when you look back at him, his eyes still wide and watery and stupid as you rub your face in contemplation. A huff escapes your lips as you click your tongue, before you turn and lean into his face. His eyes flicker to your lips, shifting in his seat.

"If you tell anyone–" "I won't. This is just for you and me, I promise."

You and me.

His hand is warm as he cups your cheek, and you struggle not to roll your eyes at the way your skin prickles. His breath is minty against your lips, and you let your eyes meet. Your face feels hot as he smiles softly, his thumb brushing the skin of your cheek.

"We don't have to–" "I want to." "Yeah?" You don't respond, opting to close the gap between you and slotting your lips with his. It's soft, it's natural – how easily you fall into rhythm with him. His lips are soft, tongue skilled as he slips it into your mouth. You didn't realize how much you were leaning into him as you sucked on his tongue, a soft groan from his throat making your heart race in your chest. Your hands grip the edge of the center console as his hand tangles in your hair, holding you against him as he nips at your lips. You move back, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips before clearing your throat.

"Proof enough?" "I think I need more, actually. Insufficient data and whatnot–" "Oh, shut up."

You scoff inwardly, feeling your cheeks hot as you move to pull away further, but he only follows. "Just one more." "Seungcheol–" "Please."

You roll your eyes, letting him slot your lips to his once more. It's like he's addicted, the way he leans over the center console even further just to be closer to you. Your hands grip his shirt, keeping him close as you move back. He chases your lips, but you move your hand to cover his mouth as he furrows his brows.

"Joshua's going to wonder where I am–" "Ugh." He falls back into his seat, running a hand over his face. "I forgot about him. It's not like he's your keeper." You snort, before awkwardly shoving your hands back into the pocket of the sweatshirt. "He's not, but he does have access to our Ring camera. If I show up with your spit all over me–" "We can wipe you down." "Seungcheol…this is just not a good idea." "Why?" You nibble on your lip, crossing your legs at the knee. Your thighs are tense under your shorts, clamped together as you try and push any thought of arousal to the back of your mind. You can feel him looking at you, and you pick at your nails inside the pocket of his sweatshirt.

"Just…take me home, please." He doesn't respond, only watching as you pull the seatbelt over your chest. The heat of his stare suddenly disappears, and you hear the click of his own seatbelt as he clears his throat. He doesn't say anything, even as you peer at him out of the corner of your eye, his hands fiddling with the shift gear before you feel the car steer back onto the road.

For a moment, there is nothing to say – but you feel small. You feel like you've done exactly what you'd been telling yourself you wouldn't, falling for charms that shouldn't have worked on you the way they did on all the other girls. You think about the way your sorority sisters fawned over him – his body, the way they bragged about being folded like a damn lawn chair at his leisure, the way his tongue made them lose their minds and almost always crawl back for more.

Sure, he's…honest. He told you he didn't like casual sex, he told you he didn't like the way it felt after.

But you know that only means he pushed the feeling aside time and time again, because he still did it. You knew more about how well he ate pussy than anything else, and you felt odd as your heart sank in your chest. You don't know of a single girl that he ever intended to be serious with – so what makes you any different? And why do you give a flying fuck about being different to him – you don't even like him.

Of course you don't like him. He's arrogant and annoying and…profound. And gentle, and smart and funny and flirty and so fucking stupid. He's so stupid, Choi Seungcheol.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" "I don't want problems this weekend, Seungcheol." "You won't have any. Don't worry about it." His voice is slightly tight, but you turn to look at him. He looks fine to the naked eye, his jaw relaxed, shoulders set back as he flicks on his turn signal. You nod slowly, feeling the car roll to a halt for a stoplight. He glances up at the red light, before his eyes flicker to yours. He raises a brow, and you just shake your head. "Sorry." "Nothing to be sorry for, Y/N." You don't like the way your name rolls off his tongue, it's nothing like the first time you heard him say it. He says it like there is nothing else to be said, your name being the stamp that ends the teasing, the trolling…and his brand of flirting. You shift in your seat, before seeing the gate of your apartment complex come into view. "You can stop here, I'll just walk the rest of the way." You murmur, and he tongues his cheek. He waits for the gate to open, the two of you peering over to see Joshua's car parked in front of your apartment. He's home, and you hear the familiar sound of thunder rolling overhead.

Seungcheol stops the car, the air thick like he has something to say. He doesn't, his finger unlocking the door and you mutter a thanks as you push it open. You set your foot out, but feel rooted in your seat. Your hand is tight around the handle of the door before you put your leg back into the car and close the door. Seungcheol makes a sound of concern, leaning forward slightly in his seat. His finger taps the center console, and you glance up at him.

"Cheol?" "Yes?" "Do you like me?" The words taste like metal in your mouth, but you chalk it up to chewing on your cheek too hard. He's silent, his fingers tracing the stitching of his center console before sighing.

"It's hard not to." He starts, and you feel your brows furrow on your face as you turn to face him fully. "You based yourself on what you heard about me, but if I had done the same thing…I think I still would've liked you a bit." "What?" "Joshua talks about you a lot. So does Jeonghan, Soonyoung…Mingyu, even. Just because I didn't get a chance to befriend you the same way they did because I was stuck in my own world…doesn't mean I don't know things about you. I know a lot about you, down to the fact that you learned how to swim in a lake after your sister threw you in. I know you don't like it when your food touches, I know you like to lie and say you're an inch taller than you actually are." "What's one inch?" You grumble, before shaking your head. "You're avoiding the question." "No, I'm answering and simultaneously telling you why you should give me a chance." "You lied to Chan–" "And you lied to Joshua when you said you said you'd never like a, what was it? A scum-sucking harlot like me? You're no better." "I don't like you, Seungcheol." You grit, "And I didn't lie. I said the truth, I could never–" "You're wearing my sweatshirt. You stare at me like you've never seen a man before in your life, don't think I don't notice the way you literally follow me with your eyes. Not to mention, we just kissed, not even ten minutes ago. You want to act like I'm not even worth the time, like I'm not worth your time but you act so differently when it's just me and you. You tell Joshua one thing, but you bite back your smiles when you talk to me. I was honest with you about my past, and what I want for my future. It's not enough for you to even try to change your mind and I can respect that, and I think whatever game you're playing needs to end now because I'm not strong enough for this seesaw. So, I'm getting off. How's that for never?"

His jaw is tight now, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he closes his eyes. "I'm not coming this weekend, so tell Junhui I'm sorry. Please, go inside. It looks like rain."

You don't know why your nose burns as your jaw clenches, your hand gripping the strap of your bag so tight anyone would think you'd seen it run away before. A drop of water hits his windshield as you run your tongue over your teeth, a tear falling onto the light grey fabric of his sweatshirt before you haphazardly tug it off. You throw it into his backseat before pushing his door open, slamming it behind you as you get out and make your way to your apartment door.

He doesn't pull away even as you get inside, and you feel your chest tight as you throw your keys into the bowl on the foyer table. Joshua's voice can be heard stopping abruptly in the kitchen as you toe your shoes off quickly, and you see the flash of a blond head as you hide your face and practically sprint to your room as tears flow down your cheeks.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" You don't respond as Joshua calls after you, slamming your way into your bedroom and locking the door behind you.

YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT THE SINKING FEELING IN YOUR CHEST AS YOU SAT IN FRONT OF JEONGHAN'S APARTMENT – AWAITING HIS ARRIVAL INTO THE RENTED VAN THAT WOULD PAVE THE WAY TO THE CABIN.

"Hey, honey." His voice is soft as he leans in the passenger window, and you hum in response. You don't look up from the book in your hand, even when you feel his cool fingertips thumb at your earlobe. "You don't look very happy." "I'm fine, Jeonghan." You spent a few hours sobbing silently into your pillow the night before, before Joshua and Junhui took your doorknob off to get in. You didn't tell them anything, only apologizing to Junhui for being a mess on his birthday weekend – and you almost threw up as you let Seungcheol's notice slip past your lips. Joshua's eyes had narrowed then, and he'd disappeared from your bedroom as Junhui hugged you tightly with whispered assurances that you were going to be okay.

Junhui wound up falling asleep on your bed next to you, your face swollen when you woke up the moment the morning sun started peeking in through your blinds. Joshua had taken it upon himself to pack your bag, leaving the green duffel at the edge of your bed in case you wanted to put anything else in it.

You spent an hour dunking your face in ice water to minimize the swelling, but it wasn't going down. Joshua only smoothed your hair and told you to get in the car after brushing your teeth. You told yourself that you'd be fine, that everything would be fine – until you saw Seungcheol's name flash across Joshua's phone screen the moment you got in the van and felt a sinking pit in your stomach.

Yearning is a bitch.

"Well…you might wanna go pee or stock up on something. You know the drive is very long, and I don't think Shua's gonna want to stop anywhere." He says softly, and you look up to see a very gentle look in his eyes. Almost like he knew something, and you had no doubt that he did as he opened the door and carefully unbuckled your seatbelt. "Come on." You obliged, quietly dog-earing your page and slipping out of the car. You cross your arms on your chest as you follow Jeonghan up to his apartment, not seeing Seungcheol's car anywhere nearby and feeling a bit of a weight off your shoulders. Jeonghan opens the door for you, following closely behind as you wander into the kitchen. Joshua and Junhui are packing things in coolers – sliced fruit, sandwiches…

And Seungcheol is quietly cutting things up for them in the corner, his hands covered in fruit juices and the kitchen covered in bottles of orange juice that seemed to be freshly squeezed. You can't see his face, covered by the shaggy mop of hair you'd gotten used to seeing dripping wet. Mingyu is hovering above the sink, furiously washing dishes as you slip past him – hearing him ask about Junhui's girlfriend and why she's not here.

You don't manage to hear the answer as you sidle up to Joshua, your hand gripping the back of his shirt as he peers down at you.

"How are you feeling, honey?" "Fine. Don't call me honey."

"Noted. How are you feeling, hoe?" You snort, pinching his side as you peer into the cooler. Grapes, sliced oranges, a few yoghurt parfaits you know aren't going to make it past the hour – not if Mingyu was anywhere near the coolers. You feel something cold against your cheek, and flinch to see Jeonghan holding a cold spoon to your face. You take it, silently patting it around your eyes as Joshua bumps his hip to yours.

"You're in my way, sweetheart." "Joshua." "I've called you these things for years, what's the deal? Scoot." You roll your eyes, sticking your tongue out at him before skirting back out of the kitchen. You hadn't been to Jeonghan's apartment all that often, only twice to sleep off one too many tequila shots and you were gone by morning. You wandered a bit before making your way down the hall. A few doors are left open, and you spot the bathroom when you stop. The other door left open is a bedroom, and you look over your shoulder before tucking the spoon in the back pocket of your shorts and peeking inside.

A large bed is in the middle, dressed in black bedsheets with a forest green comforter. There's a throw blanket bunched at the foot of the bed, and the smell of the room is familiar…patchouli, bergamot…sweet, sweet pineapple. Seungcheol's bedroom. You glance over your shoulder again as a laugh erupts from one of your friends, before you slip into the bedroom. You keep your hands tucked behind your back as you look around – framed photos of him, Jeonghan and Joshua, of the soccer team at SNU, of his family. A small white dog with a cherry clip in the fur has a small shrine all to herself on his dresser, Polaroids of her tucked into the mirror labeled Kkuma with dates. The walls are lined with awards, his degree placard, and a framed piece of newspaper from the SNU Hawk Review Committee. Star Soccer Captain Choi Seungcheol takes SNU to Nationals!

You feel your heart sink a bit, seeing his smiling face printed in the corner. There was yet another Polaroid stuck into the frame – him, holding the silver semi-finals trophy of the same year. Your fingers tremble as you take it into your hand, wiping the caked dust off the photo. You place it back, wiping your fingers on your shorts before sniffling inwardly.

You glance up to see everything else scattered across his desk – textbooks, open notebooks with scrawled notes and his laptop open to an anatomical sketch of the human hip. You read a few of the notes, not understanding anything on the page when your eyes flicker up to see a piece of paper sticking out from one of the folders on his desk. You carefully pull it out, feeling your nose burn as you read the familiar SNU headline.

Ex-soccer captain Choi Seungcheol loses scholarship due to injury.

You remember this article. It had been printed without authorization from the committee, and you remember the editor lost her mind. All copies were to be returned to the yearbook office by that afternoon, but it seems he managed to keep one. You run your finger down the photo of him in the corner, a black-and-white version of the Media Day photos that everyone looked forward to from the Athletics Department.

"You really shouldn't look through people's things. It's rude." You feel your skin prickle at his voice, but you don't bother looking up as you carefully slide the article back into the folder it came out of. You clasp your hands behind your back once more, your eyes scanning over the medals that lined the wall. Most Valuable Player, Best Forward, Best Leadership…

Most Likely To Go Pro.

"Y/N." "I don't like it when you say my name like that." You don't look away from the wall, your eyes glued to the picture of his graduation. His mother is holding his cheeks tightly, his face pink from the summer heat and holding a large bouquet of flowers in the crook of his elbow. You reach for it, tracing her face with your fingertip.

"Your mom?" "Yes." "She's beautiful." "Thank you." He's closer now, his hand taking the photo from yours and placing it back on his desk. Your eyes move to his face, his eyes slightly swollen as he clears his throat. You feel your stomach knot up, your lips parting as he stares at the photo.

"They're waiting for you." "Come with us. There's room in the van, I'm sorry–" "I'll meet you there, don't worry about it."

I'll meet you there.

He tongues his cheek, and you feel your face grow hot as he peers down at you by the slope of his nose. He tilts his head, "Junhui and Jeonghan asked me. I'm not going to give you any problems, so don't–" "I'm sorry." You interrupt, "please, don't act like this. I don't like it." "You don't like me, so what does it matter?" His voice is soft, and you try not to react as the sting of tears fills your eyes. A honk makes you jump, his laugh tired and hollow. "Go on, Y/N. They're waiting for you." You blink up at him, "Cheol–" "Just call me Seungcheol. They're waiting, and you'll be late. Go, hurry."

You ignore the pang in your chest as you listen to him, not feeling the heat of his gaze as you slip out of his bedroom.

Seungcheol feels like a fish out of water.

His car is silent, the grey sweatshirt you ripped off last night still thrown in his backseat. His duffel sits in the passenger seat, where the scent of your perfume mixed with sunscreen lingers. He feels his chest heavy as he maneuvers his way through the paved roads of the woodlands, the sun setting in the distance.

He can still feel your lips on his. He spent the entire night staring at the ceiling, feeling his chest ache every time he thought about the sweet taste of the cabana mocktails on your tongue. He ran his fingers over his lips constantly, the smell of your shampoo on his fingertips. He held the tears in as long as he could, but even the mighty fall – and he cried silently, trying to hold his sobs in so as to not wake up Jeonghan in the next room.

He remembers the first time he met you – a time you probably don't remember. It was in passing, though, and you hardly managed to speak to him so he didn't expect you to – at a party. It was Jeonghan's birthday, and it was being hosted at his fraternity's sister sorority house. All of your friends were there, and you greeted everyone eagerly while taking presents and hiding them in your bedroom. You were wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a red halter top, your hair flowing loosely as you bounced around like a spider on crack.

It was just after Jaehee dumped him. He attended at the incessant begging of Jeonghan, who wanted him to get out of his slump; and wound up being introduced to you by Joshua before you sheepishly apologized and ran over to tend the drink station. He remembers the way your eyes were sparkly with excitement, your smile wide and lips glossed to high heaven. He wasn't even sure you registered his name, but he certainly knew you thought he was cute. You peered at him over the top of red solo cups, even pointing every time you thought he wasn't looking to ask about him to whoever was around you.

Seungcheol remembers the way your earrings swung as you danced, the way you sang the loudest for Jeonghan when you wheeled the cake in…the way you snuck off with Joshua in tow and a joint in your hand. And he remembers how sweetly you bid him goodnight when you found out he was leaving around midnight, even walking him to his car barefoot. You smelled of tequila and sweet almond oil, and he remembers filing you away to the back of his mind, purposely never to be thought of again lest he lose his mind. Everything he knew about you was from your friends. He made it a point not to bump into you, not to run in the circle all that often because he truly believed that crushes cannot be healthy in a friend group. He saw the way you narrowed your eyes if you saw him when you would attend soccer games to support Wonwoo and Junhui, the way you scoffed if you saw him after Jaehee must've told you something.

He saw how guarded you became, even if you didn't know him. He wasn't sure you knew who he was before Jaehee – but you also seemingly didn't care to hang out with him. You were always busy doing something else when he would hang out with the group – your mutual friends rolling their eyes when you'd call to bail because Wonpil wanted to hang out, or because you wanted to spend the night in (read: sleep with Wonpil), or because you simply didn't feel like hanging out.

It was truly, truly divine intervention that the two of you never saw each other – and he thought he'd escaped the idea of ever even being in the same room with you. He thought he'd tricked life, until he walked into the waterpark and saw you sitting at the gate in that bright red swimsuit – and all his memories of that first night came rushing back. He didn't consider anything but dishing back exactly what you served; the idea of sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thighs and covering the expanse of your neck with his lips only flooding in when he walked into the break room and saw you arguing with Soonyoung. You were so standoffish and mean and he didn't understand why he liked it. For years, girls fell to their knees without him even saying anything. Girls threw themselves at him left and right simply because he was on the soccer team, or because he was cute, or because they'd heard about him through the grapevine. But you? Claiming girl code, actively trying to make it a point not to be too available for him even as an employee at your job – he loved it. He loved how you scowled inwardly every time you walked past him, only to smile quickly at any passing mother or coworker. He loved watching the soft swing of your hips as you did rounds at closing, your soft humming to the loud cabana music incredibly cute.

He liked seeing you squirm, too. Calling you Barbie, calling you princess and seeing the way your brow would furrow and your nose would scrunch before you told him off…he lived for it. He felt a bit of pride in his chest when he saw you checking him out, even more so when you did it the night he pulled you into the hot spring.

And he remembers the odd, rolling boil of jealousy in his stomach when he found out the dynamics between you and Chan; and it only got worse when he came across the knowledge that you and Joshua had slept together. He felt his throat tight as you spoke about it, your voice shy and he felt the ugly head of comparison trying to rear its ugly head in; and he felt stupid to feel so jealous, because you weren't his and you were pulling every move in the book to make it known that you would never be. He remembers the fury he felt in his chest when your eyes were full of fear that same night, the way your fingers gripped his sweatshirt as he told off that stupid guy in the parking lot, and he hated it. He tried not to think about what could've happened if he hadn't stayed the way Joshua asked him to.

He hates the way the title boyfriend referred to him temporarily, and falsely. He wants it, the real one; to be awarded the title of your boyfriend and never have to let it go, only upgrade. He wants to make you laugh and brush your hair for you and hold you against his chest during thunderstorms. He wants to hold your hand and kiss your cheek and pay your student loans and Seungcheol wants to make you proud.

He thinks about how he hasn't dated or slept with anyone in years, calmly rejecting women and carefully avoiding situationships. He thinks about how he aimlessly flirted with the mothers at the park with zero intention of doing anything, just to feel the heat of your jealousy-fueled glare on his back. He thinks about how for the first time in ages, he wants to. He wants to date you – he wants to take you out to dinner and take walks on the beach and fill his room with framed photos of the two of you and take you home to meet his parents. He wants to embarrass you in front of them by kissing you like a mad man and he wants to serve your plate at family dinners and he wants to fill your cup every time it starts running low. He, admittedly, wants to sleep with you – he wants to make love to you, to feel you fall apart for him, to hear you moan and whine and make you cry on his tongue. He wants your shampoo to permeate his bedsheets, he wants the room to smell like you forever and he wants to run his hands over your hips and thighs and just kiss you until you can't breathe.

He wants you to kiss him, to touch him, to ruin him until he can't think of anything but you and all that falls from his lips is your name.

He can't shake the feeling of your lips. Soft and slick, the taste of you lingering in the back of his throat driving him absolutely insane. He pulls over twice on the way to the cabin to get himself together, breathing through his mouth just to see if the taste is still there despite his toothpaste and mouthwash. He palms at his shirt, hoping his hand feels anything like yours, hoping if he thinks about it long enough; you'll reappear. You'll reappear and he'll hear the choked laughter you bite back, he'll smell the chlorine and sunscreen and citrus…he'll feel the warmth of your tongue sliding into his mouth with your fingers bunching up his shirt and it'll settle his heart that feels like it's about to fall out of his chest. You'll reappear and he won't have to think about anything but you, granting him the once-in-a-lifetime chance to kiss you and have you to himself – even if it's just for the moment.

He's dipped his toe in the stormy whirlpool that is falling for you, and he's not so sure he wouldn't like to drown in it. In everything about you, the way you smell and how you fight your feelings back with a bat riddled in rusty nails and how you love. He sees it, your love in all your friends – your excited eyes when you would talk with Joshua about Junhui flying in for his birthday, your laughter ringing through the air when Mingyu chases after you after you steal his drinks at the cabana, your soft suggestions that Soonyoung stop wearing that fucking tiger-print Speedo. Only to turn around and look at him with wide eyes that narrowed just as fast, plump lips that pressed into a thin line with curt nods – that turned into bitten smiles, a soft glint in the back of your eyes and he wants you so fucking bad. He feels pathetic to want you so bad, it's only been a month. A month.

Fools love rushing in, though.

"Stupid. Get a grip." He mutters to himself, his GPS telling him to take a left turn. He does it, seeing the rented van come into view, the cabin towering three stories in the middle of the tall trees. The lights are on, but he can hear laughing and smell the smoke of a fire as he pulls in next to the van. He turns the car off, before hearing someone start screaming about being thrown in the lake. A splash is heard as he opens the door, momentarily pausing before reaching behind the seat and grabbing his sweatshirt. He tugs it over his head, grabbing the strap of his bag before climbing out and slamming the door shut.

He's quiet as he walks towards the door, hearing rustling inside as he treks the steps. He knocks on the door, hearing a soft laugh as someone makes their way to the door. As it opens, he hides his subtle disappointment when he sees Minghao's girlfriend smiling brightly.

"Cheol! Come in, come in. Everyone's out back, I'm just getting some more beers with Hao. Uh, Shua said your room is on the second floor to the left, baby blue door." She gives him a one-armed hug, and he greets her quietly. Minghao calls his greeting from the kitchen, his girlfriend quickly skirting back as Seungcheol makes his way to the stairs. He toes his shoes off, quietly making his way up the steps and looking around before seeing a baby blue door with his name taped on it. The surrounding doors have Minghao, Joshua, Jeonghan…Y/N.

He steps inside, immediately hit with a wave of the citrusy perfume you wear. He sees the entire room covered in memorabilia – you and Joshua, you and your sorority sisters, you and…your grandparents. He sees a singular photo of you, a girl who has a striking resemblance to you and two adults. It's caked in dust and shoved in the back of all the photos, and he sets his bag down on the dresser before tucking his hands in his pockets and looking around. There is a hand-drawn map, easily having been done by a child, of the woods surrounding the cabin.

"Hey, you made it."

He turns, seeing Joshua standing in the doorway. He nods curtly, before Joshua takes a step into the bedroom and closes the door behind him. "What's going on with you?" "Hm? Nothing, I just needed some time alone." Seungcheol shrugs, and it's not entirely a lie. Joshua sighs, setting his beer down next to Seungcheol's duffle on the dresser. He takes a seat on the foot of the bed, crossing his ankles as he leans back on his arms.

"I know you have feelings for Y/N. It's okay, Cheol." He scoffs, not bothering to face the younger man as he looks at the soft trinkets lining the shelves on the wall. Small angel figurines, religious elements that he's not too sure you subscribe to, a white maneki-neko…a picture of you at graduation, alone. Your smile was too forced, your eyes brimmed with tears and your hands holding your degree so tight, your fingertips looked pained. Tucked in the frame was a Polaroid of you and Joshua sitting in front of a cake that said Congratulations, Graduates!

"Y/N and I aren't romantic." Joshua speaks up, and Seungcheol feels his back tense as he shrugs again. "Don't shrug me off, I know it bothers you. I know you care, Cheol, so let me talk about it." "I don't care." "Yes, you do! Jesus Christ, the two of you are fucking idiots! It's like neither of you understand that you can put your pride aside and feel the things you want to because suddenly it means you're admitting to being human!" Joshua pushes off the bed as Seungcheol peers over his shoulder at him. Joshua runs a hand over his face, "I've known Y/N for over a decade. I've seen her through everything; through grief, in love, in financial crisis, on vacation, and throwing her guts up after drinking too much. I know that girl from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and trust me when I say that she's just not good at admitting her feelings. Do you know how long it took for her to admit she had feelings for Wonpil? Two years. He graduated early and she was still pining after him, I had to tell him myself. And now, I'm telling you." Joshua walks over to Seungcheol, his hand on his shoulder as he leans in.

"I love Y/N, more than anything. She is my best friend, she's my rock and I have no problem taking care of her. But if I have to mend her broken heart because you can't be a man…Seungcheol, I can't imagine it will end well for you."

"It's not me who doesn't want her." Seungcheol speaks softly, tonguing his cheek. "I told her in the car…when I dropped her off last night. I told her that it was her that was pushing me away, because she can't let go of who I used to be. I explained, and I told her I've changed. It's up to her, Joshua, because she tries to convince herself of feelings she doesn't have. She tries to convince herself she doesn't like me. Not me."

The younger man's eyes soften, and he sighs. "She's just scared." "I don't bite." Seungcheol whispers." No matter how much of a dog she thinks I am."

"She did not say that." "She did. And it's fine. I'm not here to cause a scene, I'm here to celebrate my friend's birthday and get wasted. So…let's go, Shua." Seungcheol forces a small smile, seeing the concern lace in the back of his friend's eyes as he pushes past him. He slips out of the bedroom, barreling down the stairs of the cabin with Joshua in tow. He slips his shoes back on, making his way towards the back of the cabin.

"Is everyone here?" He speaks over his shoulder, and Joshua makes an affirmative noise. Seungcheol peers out over the shaded back porch, seeing all their friends scattered around the fire and you, silently sipping a beer as Junhui tells a story Seungcheol can't quite make out as he steps out.

"Cheol!" Junhui yells, "you made it!" The two men slink out of the cabin, Seungcheol forcing yet another smile on his lips as he greets almost everyone with a quick hug. Someone hands him a beer, someone else shoves him in a chair and Chan is sopping wet from (presumably) being thrown in the lake – but all he can think about is how hard he wants to mistake the heat of your eyes for the flame of the fire.

He tries to be in the moment, to listen to Junhui's excited stories about being overseas. He tries to focus when Jeonghan talks about his solo trip to Bali and how he got scammed into buying cat food by a cat. He tries to laugh when they laugh, he tries to ignore the sinking pit in his stomach when you softly ask if anyone wants s'mores; and he's unsuccessful as he notices the way your hands clenched into fists at your sides, thumbs shoved into the front pockets of your shorts.

He feels his heart ache when you return with your arms full of things; marshmallows, graham crackers, chocolate bars and he can't help but let his body take over and help you. He takes the ingredients from your arms, your eyes watery when your hands brush his wrist with a soft thanks. He tongues his cheek as the lump builds in his throat, rapidly blinking the tears that build in his eyes away. He doesn't respond – only breaking the cracker box open and laying them out on the tray you'd tucked under your arm, portioning the chocolate out accordingly. He watches as you sit and roast your marshmallow in silence, smiling quietly at Junhui as he talks about Minghao visiting him during the winter holidays.

He knows the group is aware something has happened between the two of you when you take a cracker from Seungcheol, only to offer it right back with your blazen marshmallow. He knows you know the group is aware when you blow the fire out on the melting sweet treat, placing another cracker on top before putting it in his hand and casually continuing the conversation.

He knows you want him to know you're glad he's there, when you pass him a beer and whisper in his ear: I was worried you wouldn't come. No one was looking at the two of you then, rummaging through the coolers for drinks or sneaking off in all directions to pee in the forest when there are three free bathrooms inside the cabin. FOMO, he assumes, but he only looks up at you and gives you a small shrug – trying so hard to ignore the way your eyes flicker to his lips before you slink away and into your chair four feet away.

He aches to reach for your hand, nearly crushing the beer can in your grip. He aches to hold you close as Joshua smooths your hair down in passing, shoving a slice of watermelon in your hand and telling you to eat. He aches to slip in the chair next to you, close to you, the way Hansol does when he asks if you're okay. Your voice is only soft as you say I'm fine, just tired.

He decides to turn in early, claiming a headache when Seungkwan, Seokmin and Soonyoung start bothering you. Joshua tells him to rest well, and set an alarm for eight-thirty because the group was going to the waterfalls in the morning. He nods, but he's sure your shriek from being picked up by Mingyu and thrown into the lake could've been heard all the way back into the city. He could hear music start playing outside through the wall of the cabin as he slipped inside, his thoughts not drowned by the hot water of the shower pelting the back of his head; in the bathroom that he realizes is a Jack-and-Jill with your room as he hears slamming on the other side.

He pretends not to hear your grumbling and the schlop of your wet clothes being taken off as he pulls his shirt over his head, walking out into his bedroom for the weekend. He pretends not to hear you say ouch! when he hears a shampoo bottle clatter on the bathtub floor as he's pulling his sweatpants over his hips.

…And he lets a singular tear fall when he hears a soft sob through the bathroom wall, pulling the duvet over his shoulder and staring at your graduation photo with his heart in his throat.

It's nearing two in the morning, and you can't sleep.

It's raining, and you're sitting on the back porch in your underwear. Everyone had long gone to bed, feeling stupefied by the heat of the fire and the side effects of too many beers each. Your friends had a wonderful first night at the cabin, and most of them didn't notice the carefully timed sniffling or the way you quickly wiped any stray tears from falling down your face. You could tell they sensed something was off though, going as far as having Mingyu throw you in the lake fully clothed to shock you out of it. It didn't, and you stormed upstairs and cried your eyes out in the shower. You only went back downstairs to help Joshua to his room after your shower, his cheek rested on your head as you hauled him into his bed before he spoke to you.

"You're not going to be able to sleep until you and Seungcheol talk things out, you know. Just…listen to me, for once. Yeah?"

And the words lingered in your mind before you came outside. Your knees to your chest as you sat in the wooden swing that belonged to your grandmother, just watching the rain pelt the lake. The wet air felt gross against your bare legs, your underwear barely peeking out of the oversized shirt you donned before bed. However, the feeling was drowned out by the tears that filled your eyes again – and you felt stupid, because it's not like you and Seungcheol had been together. It wasn't like he and you broke up or anything, so it didn't really make sense to feel the way you did. You were angry at yourself, knowing he'd carefully taken down every brick of the wall you'd set up faster than a New York minute the moment you saw him. He'd chipped away at you, pulling you closer and closer, only for your words to say something you didn't mean – words you had meant only a month earlier, and now it felt like your heart was going to come out of your throat.

Maybe it's all a side effect of refusing to feel something and losing everything he is in the process.

And you just sit and think. You think about your past relationships – really, just Wonpil. He had been a good guy, really…he just had a tendency to leave right after sex. The dates were lovely and long-winded, carefully planned. He made so much time for you outside of his busy work schedule, even when you told him you understood dating a college girl wasn't exactly ideal for someone with his workload. He made you feel seen, just for a moment – and the sex itself wasn't all that bad, either. But you did feel a bit empty. Eventually, the bits of empty became a lot of feeling empty – and you ended it quietly over a final time in his apartment together. He tried to apologize, to make it up to you, he even begged – but you'd stoically pulled your jeans on and left without another word.

It bothered you. You didn't know how to bring it up and you'd only really had sex for the last year of your relationship, so it didn't seem worth it, anyway. However, it did leave you confused when Joshua didn't do the same thing. You'd physically kicked him out of your bed the last two times the two of you slept together – but not before you realized that the gentle caresses, the warm towel wiping you down, the hot bath…it didn't make you feel empty. You didn't feel empty.

Sighing inwardly, you let the tears flow freely, taking a quick drag of the joint in your hand. Soonyoung had managed to get a few before you and Joshua picked him up in the van, and you stole one from his suitcase when you snuck outside; snatching a lighter from Minghao before he and his girlfriend settled in for the night. You smushed your cheek in the crook of your elbow, before you heard the click of the back door opening.

You glance up, seeing Seungcheol's eyes wide as he spotted you. You felt your throat dry, swallowing hard before clearing it.

"Hey."

He gives you a curt nod, before slipping out and closing the door gently behind him. He has a beer in his hand, his forefinger flicking the tab cautiously as he looks out in the forest. You glanced up at him, before he met your eyes.

"You can sit." You patted the cushion next to you, and he looked hesitant before doing so. He leaned back slightly, before pushing the swing to rock lightly. You clear your throat again, hearing him crack the beer open before seeing him hold it out to you. You look at him with a confused look, before his cool fingertips swipe at your wet cheeks. You don't move away, and he sighs, lightly brushing his knuckles against your skin before pulling back.

"You need it more than I do." He shrugs, before plucking the joint from your fingers and shoving the beer into your hand. You click your tongue, before taking a small sip. It's cool down your throat, and you set it down between the two of you. "How was the drive?" "Good. Quiet." He nods, flicking the ash off the end of the lit joint before taking a quick drag. "Got lost a few times but…here I am." You snort, "Yeah, she's hard to find. My old man did it on purpose."

Seungcheol nods, a small smile on his lips as he blows the smoke out carefully. He holds it back out to you, your fingers brushing his as you take it gently. He hums, reaching for the beer and clicking his tongue.

"Joshua talked to me, you know." He starts, and you nod silently. You already knew, based on Joshua's demeanor when he walked out of the house with Seungcheol earlier. His shoulders were too rigid to have not scolded someone. "Said that you're a crybaby princess who can't talk about her feelings or you'll combust into flames and engulf us all." "He did not say that!" You huff, and the small smirk on his lip says you're right. You scowl, kicking his thigh softly when he catches your foot. He pulls you toward him, your hip bumping his as he drapes your leg over his lap, his hand high on your bare thigh. You feel your face hot as he stares down at you, eyes full of what you're sure you've mistaken as fondness. "Stop looking at me like that." "I can look at you however I want." He murmurs, his fingers gently pushing your hair out of your face. "Do you remember when we first met?" "...You mean a month ago?" "I mean freshman year on Jeonghan's birthday."

You blink, feeling his arm wrap around your shoulders. "What?" "Mhm. We met freshman year at Jeonghan's birthday party. It was right after Jaehee dumped me but before you knew it, because it was like you'd never heard of me before. You had this red top on with gold earrings and you looked so beautiful." He sighs softly, before his fingers drum onto your shoulder. "I was so convinced I'd get a crush on you that I actively avoided the group after finding out how close you and Joshua were to Jeonghan. I wasn't going to ruin a friendship of over a decade with Jeonghan and Joshua by dating their friend. And then the circle just kept getting bigger and I was adamant I wouldn't get close to you, I didn't want to sully anything if I wasn't what you wanted." You look up at him, but he keeps talking. "And I saw how you acted when you'd see me at games after Jaehee told you whatever it is that she did. I saw you cheering for Wonwoo and Junhui all the time and I remember how I felt my knees weak every time I saw you in the stands just sipping on a lemonade." He snorts, "I saw you at all of Jihoon's recitals, and you always had a huge bouquet of flowers. But I knew you were friends with Jaehee, and I knew that that was why you acted the way you did. So I wasn't very surprised to find out that you don't remember meeting me after disliking me for so long without even so much as remembering my face." "I remembered your name, that was enough." You weakly argue, and he laughs softly. It's softer, it's real as he squeezes your shoulder gently. "I'm sorry, Seungcheol. I've been such a jerk–" He doesn't let you finish, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. You frown as he pulls back, your hand moving to the back of his head and pulling him down. Your lips meet his continuously; soft, damp kisses that taste like beer and weed and I'm sorry.

"You don't need to apologize, okay? If anything, I'm sorry, sweetheart. I was wrong to talk to you the way I did. I felt too much at once and that's my problem, not yours and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I should've talked about it and then maybe we'd be in a different position right now. But if I dwell on the maybes, on the what ifs, on what I should've done, I'll never get anywhere."

His hand is warm against your cheek as he keeps you close, your lips pouted as he sprinkles kisses all over your face. His teeth nip at your cheek playfully, making you scowl as you attempt to move back when he soothes it with a brush of his lips.

"I like you a lot. You don't have to like me back, but I just wanted you to know. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you and it's ruining me. You are ruining me."

"Come sleep in my room." You murmur, your cheeks hot and feeling him nod as he presses another kiss to your lips.

"Whatever you want, baby." You both slide off the swing, your hand instinctively taking his as you put the joint out in the ashtray. You toss it into the beer can, throwing it away in the porch trashcan before pulling the cabin door open and slipping inside. He's warm against your back as you go up the stairs, his hand squeezing yours as you lead him into the bedroom you chose for the weekend.

You lie across the bed as he takes a seat at the head of it, his shoulders resting against the headboard. He gives you a quizzical look, patting his lap before you crawl over to him and swing your legs over his. Your thighs lock him beneath you, and you bury your face in his neck. You feel his hands run up and down your hips as he peppers kisses along your hairline before planting a kiss on your shoulder. The closeness isn't nearly enough, and you're practically vibrating out of your skin as he presses another soft kiss to your neck.

"You never told me if I was a bad kisser or not." You mumble into his skin, and you feel the rumble in his chest as he laughs. He slides his hands up your back, stroking it gently before you feel a teasing smile against your cheek.

"You didn't give me enough data." You gape, pulling your face back to see him smiling cheekily. "Yes I did! You're just greedy."

"Oh, incredibly. Greedy, jealous…all of it. Nice underwear, by the way." He snaps the waistband against your hip, and you swat his hand away with a frown. "You're really are a whore."

"I can show you how much of a whore I am, keep it up." He scoffs, and you roll your eyes despite the surge of heat to your cheeks. "What happened to California Celibate? Liar." "Mmh. It's still there…somewhere. Can't find it right now. You're so warm." He hums, nosing at your face as your hand grips his shirt. "Stop it, you're embarrassing me." "Nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart, but I guess we'll never know if you're a bad kisser or not." "I am a good kisser, I don't need to prove that to you again."

"But you want to, don't you?" You don't like the way your skin pickles so noticeably at his smile, before he softly buries his face in your neck. You feel his lips brush against your skin, his fingers squeezing your hips softly. He's nipping at your neck gently, your eyes fluttering shut as you bite down on your lip. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as his tongue trails up your neck, your breath coming out in a shudder as his teeth catch your earlobe.

"Can we take this off?" He tugs lightly at the hem of your shirt, and you scoff, your fingers moving to tug the hem up. "I thought you just wanted to see if I'm a bad kisser." He smiles against your jaw, pressing a kiss on it before pulling you higher on his lap. "You're an excellent kisser, and we don't have to do anything if you don't want to, okay? Just wanna see you, pretty." You roll your eyes, your cheeks heating as you pull the shirt over your head and toss it behind you. You dip your head down to kiss him and he eagerly meets your lips, his fingers tightening around your hips as yours card through his hair. You tug slightly, his hips jerking up involuntarily and making you moan into his mouth. His arm moves to wrap loosely around your hips, his other hand stroking your hip gently before sliding up to the base of your neck. He gives a soft squeeze, chuckling lowly as he draws a whimper out of you.

"So cute." "Shut up, take your shirt off." He obliges, letting you pull the hem up. He slips it off, throwing it to the side as your hands shamelessly run up his soft chest, the glint of a silver bar through his left nipple catching your attention. You lightly dig your nails into his shoulders, noting the soft blush that coats his cheeks as he looks away, his hands roaming your thighs aimlessly. Raising a brow, you keep your eyes on his face as you dip your head into the curve of his neck; your lips brushing along his skin as he shivers. Your hands run down his arms, and you move back a bit to see his cheeks and ears burning red. His lips are swollen from kissing you, and you stupidly clench around nothing as you tilt your head at him. "Don't look at me like that." He murmurs, his fingers tightening slightly against your thighs. You smile inwardly, "Like what?" "Like you're going to eat me. Just do it." You nod slowly, hearing Joshua's voice in your mind – Seungcheol was exactly your type: broad shoulders, thick thighs…tries to put you in your place. You tongue your cheek, your fingers tracing circles into his chest as he watches you intently; he flinches as your palm swipes over his pierced nipple, your brows raising slightly. You rub the pad of your thumb over it again, feeling his hips twitch beneath you. You do it again, slightly harder with a gentle pinch, his jaw tight as you smile inwardly.

"So that's what you meant." You murmur, before leaning down slightly. "What if I…do this?" You run the tip of your tongue over the bud, hearing him suck in a breath. You smile against his skin, before flattening your tongue against him and slowly swirling it around. His hips grind up into your core, and you feel a flood of arousal seep into your underwear as his dull nails dig into your skin with a shaky breath. You suck lightly, his hands pressing you down against his hardening cock with a grip so tight, you hope it'll bruise.

“Shit—” “Oh, you’re so fucking cute.”

You peer up at him, his head thrown back and cheeks ruddy as you gently scrape your teeth against the nub, pulling at the jewelry — when you hear a soft whimper fall from his lips. His hand moves to card through your hair, your tongue still out of your mouth as he pulls you back gently before crashing his lips to yours. It was the opposite of all the others so far; it was desperate, messy, horny, as he held you pressed to him, the feeling of him rutting against your flimsy underwear making you ache with want.

Your fingers stay splayed on his chest, slowly sliding down his stomach as he whines into your mouth. He pulls away, trailing his lips down your jaw, his hips dragging agonizingly slowly against you.

“Touch me.” He whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Please, touch me.”

“So pretty when you beg, hm?” You nip at his neck, your hand palming him over his sweatpants and earning a shiver. You squeeze your hand around him, his hips bucking up into your palm as you smile into his skin. “So sensitive.”

He's blushing hard as you press your lips to his again, kissing him slowly; your fingers pulling at the strings of his sweatpants. His hand is still settled at the base of your throat, pulling you impossibly closer as he slides his tongue into your mouth with practised ease. You tug at his waistband slightly, his fingers flexing around your neck pulling a whine from your throat – and you dip your fingertips below the waistband of his sweatpants, feeling his stomach cave in slightly as you brush the tip of his leaking cock.

"You don't have–" You cut him off with a chaste kiss, your hands pulling at the fabric again before speaking against his lips. "I want to. Take your pants off."

"Take them off me." He sinks his teeth into your lower lip lightly, pulling it before kissing you deeply. You don't break the kiss as you pull his sweatpants down slightly, and he lifts his hips a bit to get them off. You push them down, leaving them bunched at his knees before he leans forward and pushes them off the rest of the way – his hands sliding back to settle on your ass with a soft squeeze. You pull away from his lips, resting your forehead low on his as you peer down, your eyes widening slightly at the sight against his lower belly.

"No underwear, hm. Slut." You mutter under your breath as your fingers wrap around his hard cock, warm in your palm as you glance down. Thick, with a few pearls of precum dripping down the shaft that smear when you run your fingertip through it.. "Yours." He murmurs back, your eyes flickering to meet his. He's staring at your mouth, cheeks red as he nibbles on his lip. You squeeze your hand around him, making his lips part with a soft exhale. "Hm?" "Yours. Your slut." He whispers, a slight shake to his voice as you feel your face grow hot. You tilt your head, nodding slowly before leaning forward and letting a wad of spit fall from your lips onto his tip. You smile inwardly at the way he bucks into your hand as you smear it around, pressing the pad of your thumb into the slit before glancing back up.

His eyes are low as he shudders, tucking his lip beneath his teeth as his fingernails dig into your hips. You slip your free hand up his chest as you pump his cock, the wet sound accompanied by soft pants from his lips as he wraps his arms around your waist. Your hand brushes over his nipple, his lips parting as you roll it through your fingers. You can feel the way he holds himself back from thrusting into your hand, his fingers tight around your waist when you press a soft kiss to his lips.

"So needy." You coo against his lips, feeling his breath hit your lips as he pants against you. "You're not even looking at me, maybe I should stop–" He whimpers in response, burying his face into your neck and mouthing at the skin. His sounds are incoherent, almost as if he's trying to form words as you pinch his nipple. The groan he lets out is loud, and you part your lips to say something when you feel his teeth sink into your shoulder. Your hand squeezes him tight, a moan right in your ear as your own falls from your lips, turning into a pitchy whimper when he runs his tongue over the marks of his teeth on your skin.

"Please…" He breathes out, like he's not even sure what he's asking for. You push him back gently, his back hitting the headboard as your hand splays on his chest. His eyes are watery, lips swollen as you try not to think about how painfully turned on you are. You quicken your pace, feeling him shiver as his stomach caves in slightly; pitiful whimpers from his throat as he lets his head fall back against the headboard, lashes wet.

You shift slightly, the uncomfortable feeling of your underwear sticking to you as you glance down at his cock. So heavy in your hand, twitching uncontrollably and making your mouth water. His thighs are trembling slightly, and you move his hands off you before scooting back on his legs and dipping your head down. You press the tip of his cock on your tongue, his hips bucking up involuntarily with a soft moan.

"You don't have to–" His voice is so breathy you almost don't catch what he's saying until a punctuated fuck rings in your ears as you wrap your lips around him with a soft suck. His fingers card through your hair shakily, gathering it in his hand as you take him deeper. Your nails dig into his thighs, drawing yet another whimper from him as he shallowly fucked into your mouth. You bob your head up and down slowly, swirling your tongue around the tip and curling your fingers around whatever doesn't fit; hearing his breathing get ragged above you. You swallow around him, feeling his hips still and his grip on your hair tighten a bit as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. You groan around him, the vibrations enough to send him over the edge with a soft whine.

He scrapes his fingernails on your scalp gently, incoherent grumbles as your tongue overstimulates him. He pushes you back slightly, making you slide off his cock with a pop. A bit of his release dribbles down your chin, his tongue swiping across it before you can even reach to wipe your face. He doesn't let you, kissing you hard as he leans into you, his hand your belly pushing you onto your back gently. He pins you against the mattress by sliding his hand to lightly rest on your neck, your legs wrapping around his waist as you slide your tongue into his mouth. He groans at the taste of himself on you, sucking on the tip of your tongue before you feel his cock press against your thigh. You let your hand circle his wrist, pulling away from his lips and looking up at him – the same empty feeling getting ready to settle in your lower belly, and you don't want it to. He meets your eyes, pupils blown as you swallow carefully. He tilts his head, scanning your face as your fingers card through his hair, silently tracing the shell of his ear before resting on his cheek. He leans into it, pressing a kiss to the heel of your palm before his eyes look questioning.

"This…you're not going to leave after, right?" Your voice is so quiet he has to lean down a bit, and you clear your throat. "You're…you're going to stay, right?"

He furrows his brows as you look at the ceiling above him, his hand slipping up from your neck to hold your jaw. He makes you look at him, your vision slightly blurry through tears as he rests his forehead to yours. You cover your eyes with your hands, breathing in shakily before dropping them to your sides and forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "Of course I'm going to stay, Y/N. I'll stay forever, if you let me." He presses his lips to your cheek, and you roll your eyes as a tear manages to slip out. You wipe it away quickly, "Sorry. It's stupid." "No, it's not. Don't be sorry, baby. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." He runs his fingers over your cheek, squishing the fat between his knuckles before tracing the shell of your ear. "We can stop here. I'll just–" "I want you to touch me." You interrupt, your voice almost too loud as his eyes widen. You feel your face hot as you avoid eye contact, the uncomfortable feeling of your underwear sticking to you becoming unbearable. You shift, thighs twitching when you feel his cock brush over your ruined panties. "I want you, Cheol." He hums, his own question slipping out carefully.

"You like me, right?" His voice is no higher than a whisper, "You want to be mine, right? More than this, more than tonight?"

You nod silently, your fingernail moving to trace shapes in his chest. His fingers slide between yours, pinning them to the side of your head. "I need to hear you say it, pretty." "Want to be yours." You utter softly, "as long as you'll have me."

You don't get to say much else before his lips are on yours again, his hand slipping out of yours to cup your jaw. He trails off your lips, kissing down your jaw and snaking his tongue down your neck, relishing in your soft sighs. "So beautiful." He mumbles, his lips messy across your chest, his fingers moving to hold your hips as he makes his way down your body. His tongue is swirled against your left nipple, taking it into his mouth and sucking softly as you push your chest up with a choked groan. He smirks against your skin, pulling off with a wet sound before his fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear. His lips stay on your chest, nipping all over it as he carefully tugs it down. He sucks a soft mark onto your collarbone, your skin prickling from the cool air as he tosses your underwear over his shoulder. He glances up at you as he slides his hand between your thighs, your own shyly covering your cheeks and lips. He spreads them, the air making you flinch slightly as he presses a soft kiss to your right nipple; before you feel his fingers slip lower, gathering your arousal with his tongue circling the hardened bud.

Your hand slides into his hair as he traces tight circles into your clit, making your room fill with bitten back whimpers, and your thighs tremble pathetically. He only smiles against your body as he moves down your belly, leaving careful nips of his teeth on the softness of your skin. He spreads your thighs further with his shoulders, and you feel your face heat up as he presses a kiss to your hip and circles his arms around your thighs to pull you closer.

His tongue slides slowly through your wet folds, flicking against your clit in a tentative lick; you feel a breathy chuckle against your skin as your hands claw at the bedsheets. You squirm against his tongue, feeling his lips pull your clit into his mouth and give a soft suck. A guttural moan rips through you as he laves his tongue over your clit, your fingers carding into his hair with a tight tug. He groans into your pussy, your body involuntarily rocking your hips on his tongue as he laps up your arousal like a man starved. You hate how quickly you can taste your impending orgasm on your tongue, your thighs snapping shut around his head as he traces your hole with his finger.

"Wanna cum on your cock," You whine, pulling at his hair. He looks up at you, pouty lips not stopping their sucking as you pant out. He hums, replacing his mouth with his fingers as his raspy voice fills the room.

"I don't have any–" "I don't care. Please, please–" "Shh, shh. I got you, okay? So greedy."

You huff, his laugh only making you lightly kick his thigh with your foot as he towers over you. He scowls, grabbing your ankle and pulling you to the edge of the bed as he slides off. Your squeal makes his lips twitch, but he doesn't say anything as he leans over, placing a soft kiss on your lips as his hand slips between your legs.

You shake your head, grabbing his wrist, "No, wanna feel you. I'm ready." The blush on his cheeks spreads to his ears, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he shakes his head, "Baby, I–"

"Please." "Who's begging now?" "Shut up!" He only laughs, his hands sliding down your thighs and hooking behind your knees; pushing them to your chest. He lets go to press his thumb against your clit, your thighs threatening to clamp shut around his hand as he rubs slow circles into it. He pushes them apart, holding you to his hips so his cock rests on your dripping center.

He grunts, your legs shaking with oversensitivity as he grinds his cock against you, tip bumping your clit messily and smearing your arousal all over his shaft. He pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, kissing the side of your foot as you feel his fingers splay on your lower belly.

“Here.” He runs his thumb just under your navel, “you’re gonna feel me here.”

Your eyes widen as he teases the tip of his cock around your hole, your hips bucking up at the sensation before he sinks in slowly. You let out a shaky breath, his hand massaging your thighs as you watch his face. He pushes in a bit further, his eyes nearly fluttering shut at how warm and wet you are.

His hand squeezes your thigh, burying himself in fully with a soft fuck from his lips. Your mouth waters at the stretch; feeling his thumb toying with your clit as your walls flutter around him.

“So perfect for me.” He mumbles inwardly, giving a careful thrust that makes you let out a sob. He leans over, his hands running up your body as your legs wrap around his waist, his lips finding yours in a needy kiss. “Mine, right? Just for me.”

“Yours.” You whine, watching the way his cheeks flush and he bites down on your lip, watching it spring back before sliding his fingers into yours. He buries his face in your neck, your hand digging your nails into his shoulder as he gives another roll of his hips. You feel him smile into your skin as your eyes roll back with a soft whimper, your thighs tightening around his waist. His fingers are bruising, his breath hitting your neck as he mutters praises into your ear.

"Look at you." He whispers, giving a hard thrust that makes your voice break as you drag your nails down his back. “My pretty angel takes my cock so well, hm?”

Your mumble of oh my God is interrupted with whimpers falling from your lips as his hips snap into you like he hates you. You throw your head back against the sheets with a choked groan as he moves to pin your wrists to the mattress with one of his hands. You close your eyes in embarrassment, tilting your head away from him when you feel his lips on your jaw.

“Don’t hide, baby. Wanna see your pretty face.” He trails his mouth to your lips, pressing chaste kisses to your open mouth. His hand moves to hold your jaw, keeping you in place as he kisses you sloppily and smiling into your lips as you struggle to keep up. He slides down your jaw once more, brushing his lips to your neck and nipping at the skin. He sucks a small mark just below your ear, his skin prickling as you moan in his ear.

"M-more, Cheollie..." You mouth messily at his neck, sinking your teeth into his shoulder; a hard thrust of his hips making your belly cave in as it brushes the stupid spongy spot that makes you see stars. You clamp down around him, hearing a pathetic whine into your neck as he does it again and again and again; making your eyes glaze over with tears of pleasure as your pussy flutters around him, the coil in your lower belly threatening to snap.

He pulls away, his hands moving to settle on your hips. His cheeks are flushed, lip tucked under his teeth as he fucks into you. He furrows his brows, feeling your gummy walls tighten around him before snaking his hand down to play with your clit. Your thighs threaten to close around his hips but he forces them apart as your fingers wrap around the base of his throat to pull him into you. You ghost your lips over his, taunting him before he bridges the gap when your fingers give a soft squeeze, feeling his cock twitch inside you.

"Want you to fill me up," You pant out, "Want to feel full."

He only whines into your mouth, his hips stuttering slightly as you clench around him, your orgasm making your limbs feel fuzzy and making you clench around him. He buries his face in your neck before spilling into you with an audible whimper. He doesn't stop rocking his hips into you, your nails dragging down his shoulders with breathy moans in his ear.

He presses a kiss to your skin, moving to pull back before you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. "Don't leave." "M'not going anywhere, sweetheart. I'm here." He presses his forehead to yours, his lips ghosting over yours. "I'm here."

"You're sweaty." You mutter, and he gasps with a squeeze to your hips. "And you aren't?"

"I didn't say it was a bad thing. You…smell nice." You bury your face in his neck, "I like it."

He only laughs softly, before feeling your hand snake down to his chest. You run the pad of your thumb over his collarbone, before you peer up at him through your lashes. "Hi." "Hi, sweetheart." "Will you shower with me?" "You mean will I hold you up because your legs feel like jelly?" "I mean will you go down on me against the shower tile." "So I am just a good fuck to you. No dinner, not even a drink." He turns his nose up at you, and you bite back your laughter as he carefully slides out of you. Your face scrunches with a wince, "At least you were good." He snorts, carefully wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling you off the bed. You let him carry you to the bathroom, and you lean your head against his shoulder when you pass by the mirror. You look like a couple; his thick fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he holds you close to him, the swell of your lips and his….the bite marks littering your upper bodies marking each other as lovers for the night.

And you feel your chest tight when you wonder if it's just for the night, feeling your eyes burn when his lips plant a kiss to your hairline.

The morning is quiet, and Seungcheol doesn't know what to do with himself when he sees you're glued to his side like gum to a shoe.

He can't imagine being able to peel himself from your embrace, your cheek squished against his chest and a bit of drool dripping from your puckered lips. Your neck and shoulders are littered with marks from his teeth, the duvet low on your back where his shirt is bunched up and your arm thrown over his waist. Your hair is in disarray, sticking up in some places when his hand moves to smooth it down.

He peeks at the clock on the nightstand, the red numbers showing 7AM sharp. He closes his eyes, running his fingertips along the side of your face as you grumble noises into his skin.

His mind fills with the night before — the way you begged to be filled, how you touched yourself, the way your nails scratched into the muscle of his back and marked him as yours. The way you kissed his cheek and told him how pretty he was – all for you – right before you fell asleep.

He feels his chest warm as he recalls your tired groans when he massaged your hips, digging his fingers into your sore muscles after wiping you down. The way you kissed him softly, the way your hands brushed his shoulders as he held you against him in the shower, and he bites back a laugh as he remembers your sleepy voice telling him to never wear a shirt again.

He remembers your insistence that you were his, even when he didn't beg you to hear it.

“Time?”

He looks down to see you still resting against his chest, but your hand has come to wipe at your eyes. He watches you silently, before you pat his stomach lightly. “Seungcheol.”

You stretch your arms out, pressing a kiss to his skin. He loves the heat of the blush that coats his face as you press your cheek to his chest again, closing your eyes. "Time?"

“Seven. You slept two hours.”

“Shit. I lost rock-paper-scissors on the way here and said I’d make breakfast.”

He shakily runs a hand over your hair, tucking a few strands behind your ear and tracing the shell of it. You hum softly, "We have to get up." "You're the one who still has her eyes closed." "I'm tired. And sore. Fuck you." "You have. No notes, by the way."

He squeals as you dig your fingers into his side, swatting your hand away and pulling the covers up to his eyes as you sit up. There's a scowl on your lip, your hair matted to the side of your head as you tug on the cover. He holds it tighter, smiling beneath it when he sees you tongue your cheek in efforts to hold back a grin. You cross your arms on your chest, his cheeks warming as you raise a brow at him.

"Get up." "Oh, I'm up. Trust me."

You gape, your fingers yanking the cover off him. He yanks it back, pulling your hand with it and wrapping his arm around you as you fall into his chest with feigned annoyance. He smiles as you try to push yourself out of his embrace, only tightening his hold around your waist as he manhandles you to sit on his lap. Your brow is furrowed, your hands wrapping around his wrists as he settles them on your hips. You frown as you feel him hard against your inner thigh, and you let your eyes flutter shut as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"You're a fucking freak." You mutter as you let your hands fall to his chest, running them up his skin before shaking your head. "We can't, Cheol. I have to make breakfast and the drive to the falls is an hour. There are a few natural hot springs scattered around, though, if you want to go for a dip." "Will you go with me?" He tilts his head, and you nod slowly. You look at your hands, toying with the drawstring of the shorts he shoved on when you fell asleep. You're nibbling on your lip, and he sits up slowly to meet your eyes. "You can talk to me, you know." "I know." "Then?" "You…are we…" You rub your hands over your face in frustration, and he bites back a small bubble of laughter that crawls up his throat. He slides his hands over your hips, pulling you close to his chest as you let your arms wrap around his shoulders. He feels his chest warm as you bury your face in his neck, lips brushing his skin before you press a chaste kiss to it. "Are we what, sweetheart?" "You know…" "Mmh, I don't believe I do." "Ugh, Cheol." You grumble, and he lets the laughter rip through him as you smack his shoulder lightly. "It's not funny! I'm nervous!" "Don't be nervous, baby. It's just me." "Yeah well…you make me nervous." "Just say what you wanna say. Judgement free zone for my pretty girl."

You stifle a squeal into his shoulder, your arms tightening around him as he snakes his hands under your (read: his) shirt. His fingers trace your back lightly, before pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "You think I'm pretty." Your voice is soft, your fingers tracing circles into his back as you hold him impossibly tighter. "You want me to be your girlfriend so bad, don't you?" "Well, yeah–" "Fine, fine! I'll do it, jeez. Don't have to beg."

You roll your eyes as you pull back, but he feels the way your nails dig into his skin slightly. There is a hint of insecurity laced in your face as you press your lips to his forehead, and he rests his chin on your chest, looking up at you through his eyelashes. "Y/N." "Don't say my name like that, I feel like I'm in trouble." "Look at me."

You glance down wearily, and he watches how you carefully card your fingers through his hair as you nibble on your lip. "Mhm?" "I thought you understood that I was serious last night." "I…I didn't want to get ahead of myself, I guess. I didn't want to assume–" "I mean what I say and I say what I mean. I like you a lot, Y/N." His hands travel to your shoulders, holding them gently as he feels your heartbeat start racing under his palms. "I'm not leaving, I'm not going anywhere. I want to be with you, more than just last night. You said…you said you wanted that, too." "I do! I do…I just…" You run your hands over your face, a noise of frustration sounding from your throat as he wraps his arms around your waist. "I just have issues." "So do I." "I have a lot of issues, Cheol. More than Vogue." "I like to read. Hit me." You snort, letting a sigh out as you drape your arms over his shoulders again. "I need to go downstairs and start breakfast. I…I like you, too. We can figure out the logistics later."

"Or you can seal your fate with a kiss." "Oh, you're corny. I hate that." "You'll get over it. Kiss me."

You lean over slightly as he puckers his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to them when a knock makes the two of you jolt. The door opens before you can climb off his lap, his hands tightening around your body as you twist to see Joshua and Jeonghan with mussed hair and toothbrushes in their hands.

Joshua's eyes dart between the two of you, before a sly smile creeps onto his face. He covers it with his hand, and Jeonghan scratches the side of his head before looking Seungcheol dead in the eyes. He feels you tense in his hold as Jeonghan rounds the bed, opening the nightstand and fishing out a new box of floss. "What are you guys still doing in bed? Nip Slip Nancy lost rock-paper-scissors, she has to make breakfast." Jeonghan's voice is gravelly, and you slump in Seungcheol's lap. You pat his shoulder, moving to get up when he holds you against him.

"Can you guys get out? We're trying to have a conversation." He frowns, and Joshua snorts. "Downstairs before seven-forty-five. We have to load the van and we have to eat breakfast. That includes the two of you, no matter how…preoccupied you are." Jeonghan shrugs, leaving an obnoxiously long string of floss between his teeth as he pivots back out of the bedroom. "If you're not down in five minutes, I'm airing your business out."

He tugs Joshua out with him, who gives the both of you a thumbs up before shutting the door behind him. You pat his shoulder again, "I have to–" "I want you. I want you to be mine, right now. I don't want to wait to figure anything out, I know. I. Want. You, Y/N." He punctuates the words with a squeeze to your sides, watching you bite back a shy smile. "I know we haven't gone on a date or anything, but we will. We will when we get back in town, I'll take you anywhere you wanna go and we can do whatever you want; I promise." You hold your pinky out to him, giving him a pointed look until he hooks his with it. "You know Joshua will kill you if you hurt me, right?" "Ooh, don't arrest me officer. I might like the cuffs." He rolls his eyes, and you gape. "I said that to him and he said I was something else! What does that even mean?!"

"That you'll say yes to being my girlfriend." "And if I say no?" "I'll tell everyone you're a bad kisser that has morning breath." "Yeah?" You smile softly, and he feels his stomach flip as you rest your forehead against his. He can't help but grin back, "Please? I'll wait if you want–" "I'll be your girlfriend. But I have rules, Seungcheol." "If this is about me not wearing shirts–" "Please stop wearing shirts. I need to see you all the time." "You're objectifying me." He grumbles, feeling you laugh into his chest before you press your lips into his. He allows it, kissing you back deeply when the smell of waffles starts wafting into the room. You pull back, your brow furrowed when you hear the banging of pots and pans – and Jeonghan screaming 'Y/N and Seungcheol sitting in a tree!'

"We'll get back to me objectifying you later, when you're naked in here again tonight. I gotta shut Jeonghan up." You twist yourself out of his hold, sliding off the bed and grabbing a robe off the bedpost. He pouts at the loss of warmth, leaning back on his hands as you skirt out of the room. He sighs, falling back onto the pillow and rubbing his hands over his face before the bed dips again and he feels your hand on his chest. You kiss him softly, "Come eat when you're dressed, pretty boy. And we can fool around in the hot springs later."

He swears he doesn't think he's ever going to get over you.

"HEY, SWEETNESS."

You struggle not to roll your eyes, feeling the cool sprinkle of water being flicked onto your thigh by a certain someone. You look away from the magazine in your hands, your boyfriend pouting at the edge of the pool you're laying by. Your foot is in the water, keeping you cool in the hot August evening; and you feel his fingers circle your ankle.

His form of foreplay, you've learned over the course of the last month and a half.

"Sir, the park is closed. You have to get out of the pool." You sit up on your elbows, the magazine splayed open across your belly. He scrunches his nose, pressing a kiss to your knee before resting his cheek on it. You bite back your smile, his cheeks ruddy and warm from the heat as you lean forward to brush wet strands of hair off his forehead.

"I miss you." "I'm right here." "Get in with me."

"Mmh, the park's closing. There's no lifeguards." You shrug, pressing your lips into a thin line so as to not laugh when he huffs. You roll your eyes, tossing the magazine onto one of the chairs before turning and lowering yourself into the pool. He pulls you into him, holding you to his chest as you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"No making out on the clock!" Joshua annoyingly reminds you as he walks by, still being the little shit you and Seungcheol know and (fortunately for Joshua) love. You snort, pressing a kiss to Seungcheol's jaw before wrapping your legs around his waist. He buries his face in your neck, mouthing at it gently as his hands circled your thighs under the water.

"I miss you. Come over tonight. We can watch Fight Club and kick Jeonghan out." "You wouldn't kick Jeonghan out to watch Fight Club." "No, but I'd kick him out to make out with you on the couch. I haven't seen you in three days. Do you hate me?"

You snort inwardly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'm planning your birthday party; I don't hate you, dipshit. I…" You trail off, your eyes widening as you feel the heavy words on your tongue. He stilled, before lifting his head up to raise a brow at you.

He had long said them. He said those words many, many times already – the first time being a week or so into the relationship; holding you close to him and whispering them in your ear, mumbling them in the mornings where you'd be stuck to his chest because you just loved stripping him of his shirts. He said it in front of Soonyoung in the break room just last week, who made it his mission to tell the entire friend group – they lost their minds with that one.

And he made you feel special, Seungcheol. You knew, you understood that he wasn't just saying it to say it. It held weight to him, it meant something to him. It was real and he wanted you to know.

"You…what?"

You don't respond, carding your fingers through his wet hair and thinking about the pain in the ass he'd been when you got back to town after Junhui's birthday. He sat on your bed and made you pull out every red shirt you owned to see which one he saw you wearing the first time the two of you met – the red halter immediately catching his eye, making its soft-launch debut on his Instagram story two hours later on your first date.

The mothers at the park were truly disappointed when the pretty boy with the thick brows abandoned any and all flirting attempts for Lifeguard Barbie. Though they all agreed that seeing him pine after you while you were on the clock was pathetically cute – you left a sour taste in their mouths when he'd leave with you after your morning shifts; no more half-naked eye candy who flexes to make their mouths water, instead shy and reserved.

Well, not that they didn't know he was spoken for – the drags of your nails in his back were very noticeable when he took his shirt off. If that wasn't enough, your loud whistle from wherever you were in the park when you saw him take it off certainly was. He stayed to himself, he was quiet, he was needy – constantly giving you those puppy eyes and begging you to sit with him or give him a kiss.

Sometimes you caved, sometimes you didn't – but on nights that you got out late, you could count on Seungcheol to drive you around and pull over in that same spot from before to kiss you stupid. He made it a point to have his lips on yours any chance he could – even if it was in front of your friends, who gagged like idiots and eventually made you and Seungcheol retreat to a different room if you wanted to continue. He made you feel wanted, he listened, he held you close any time you allowed it and he practically suffocated you in his adoration.

The relationship wasn't smooth but it was genuine – and the two of you were slowly working through things. He understood how Wonpil had made you feel after you were intimate, and made it a huge point to coddle you and cater to your needs any time you allowed. He smothered you with his affection and attention, and your friends loved to comment on the dynamic shift between you and him. Sure, you still called him a whore; but he was a whore for you, so you weren't exactly complaining.

Seungcheol made himself a constant, he made himself dependable, he made it known he cared about you in every way you would allow – even if Joshua insisted he keep paying your student loans, that he was almost done anyway and it made him feel useful. Seungcheol began littering himself in every part of your life – there were an abnormally large amount of photos of the two of you sprinkled around your bedrooms, his sweatshirts and your t-shirts strewn in drawers, a spare key to apartments on your keychains, his credit card in your wallet and a nude Polaroid of you in his…

…A new, baby blue vibrator in your bedside drawer with twenty settings and the light bill connected to his bank account on auto-pay.

And you realize that maybe you didn't need to dip yourself into the steaming hot spring that was Choi Seungcheol. Maybe you didn't have to acclimate, because he was a tumultuous being of love and light and speckles of jealousy that made your skin prickle. Maybe you didn't have to understand your feelings about him right away, because either way – he knew what he wanted and he had no problem proving to you that you were, in fact, worth his time.

Your heart is not solid, but it's no longer guarded by you, either – it rests in the safe embrace of Choi Seungcheol's hands, at his mercy.

"You what, Y/N?" He tilted his head at you, the glint in the back of his eye giddy as you tongued your cheek. He peppered kisses all over your face as you feigned annoyance, but ultimately you sighed as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. "C'mon, pretty girl. Say it. Tell me you love me." "You're such a Leo." "And?"

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as your boyfriend smiled into your skin. "And I love you."

"Suddenly the sky is brighter–" "Don't start." "I can hear birds singing–" "You are so dramatic!"

He only laughs, his hands squeezing your thighs again as he presses his forehead to yours. "You remember when you said when you run with dogs, you get fleas?"

You roll your eyes, nodding reluctantly. "I do." "How's that working out for you?" "Don't piss me off, Seungcheol." "I love you."

"I said no making out!" Joshua's voice crackles through the intercom, and you scoff as you give Seungcheol a soft, brief kiss before pulling away.

"Come on, I'll clock out and we can make out in your shower." "And the couch?" "Even on the floor, if you're a good boy."

"You love me." He murmured as you tried to untangle yourself from him, his hands keeping you close. "Tell me you love me, sweetheart." "I love you, Cheol." "I love you, too, Lifeguard Barbie."

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thestarsaboveme · 2 months ago

Text

Reader thinks the Lads men are cheating with MC

masterlist

this was a request from a kind anon.

summary: angst with comfort, reader and lads men having a misunderstanding because reader is overthinking that they’re cheating on her with the mc since they always spend time with the mc and spending less time with the reader.

xavier ver. | rafayel ver. | zayne ver. | caleb ver.

sylus x reader | angst/comfort

You were used to Sylus being quiet.

Not cold. Just…quiet.

So when his messages started getting shorter, when his gaze didn't linger as long on yours, when his kissed turned into brushes of habit more than affection, you didn't notice right away.

Until it started to hurt.

You saw them again.

Sylus and MC in the lab.

Her laughter reached you before their voices did. Sylus stood beside her, arms crossed, watching her monitor as she demonstrated something. He wasn't smiling. But he also wasn't pulling away like he did with most people. He was listening. Engaged.

You waited for him to notice you.

He didn't.

After ten minutes of watching from the hallway, you left.

Are you free tonight?

You messaged him later.

We haven't spent time together in a while.

He didn't reply for two hours.

Can't. Late testing with MC. Tomorrow?

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow. It was always tomorrow.

You told yourself you were being irrational. That he'd always been closer to MC, given their compatibility, their shared background, their synced missions. This his loyalty ran deeper than words, and if he was cheating, you'd know, right?

But your gut twisted every time you saw them together. Every time he mentioned her like she was another heartbeat.

And tonight, as you sat alone in your room again, you couldn't hold it in anymore.

You called him.

He answered on the second ring, voice calm. ''Hey. Everything okay?''

''No,'' you said, and your voice cracked more than you meant it to. ''Can you come over?''

A pause. ''Now?''

''I need to talk to you, Sylus. Please.''

A longer pause. Then: ''I'm on my way.''

When he arrived twenty minutes later, he looked tired. Dark circles under his eyes. His hair slightly disheveled from running his fingers through it too many times. He took one look at your expression and stepped in without a word.

You stood by the couch, arms folded across your chest.

He said nothing at first, just watched you. Waiting. Patient.

That made it harder.

''Are you cheating on me with MC?''

The words came out like broken glass.

Sylus blinked. No dramatic reaction. No flinch. Just stilness.

Then a slow, quiet, ''No.''

You let out a shaky breath. ''Then why does it feel like you're never here anymore? Why does it feel like you replaced me with her?''

Still calm, he asked, ''Is that what you think I've done?''

''I don't know what to think, Sylus!'' you snapped, voice rising. ''You've been with her constantly. You talk about her like she's in your head all the time.'' You make time for her, not me. And I sit here, waiting like I'm some background character you forgot about.''

He stepped forward slowly. ''You're not.''

''Then explain it to me,'' you whispered. ''Because I'm tired of guessing where I stand with you.''

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Quietly, heavily.

''There's nothing going on between me and MC,'' he said. ''But I haven't made that clear. That's on me.''

You swallowed hard. ''Then why have you been so distant?''

He hesitated, then moved to sit on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees. Not his usual posture. He looked vulnerable. Smaller, somehow.

''I've been working with MC on some dangerous tech,'' he said slowly. ''There were…anomalies in her readings. We thought they were unstable. I needed to make sure she was okay.''

You frowned. ''So you were protecting her?''

''I was doing my job. I was trying to prevent another incident. Something like what happened to me.'' He looked up then, eyes locking onto yours. ''And I didn't want you anywhere near it.''

You hesitated. ''Why not tell me that?''

He looked away again. ''Because if you knew, you'd want to help. You'd want to be involved. And I couldn't handle the thought of something happening to you.''

Silence fell between you.

You sat beside him on the couch, not touching.

''You think keeping me in the dark is protecting me?''

''I thought I could carry it all without hurting you,'' he said. ''But I was wrong.''

You exhaled. ''You made me feel like you were slipping away. Like I was being replaced by someone who understands you better.''

His jaw tightened. ''No one understands me like you do.''

You met his eyes again. ''Then why couldn't you just say that?''

He stared at you for a long time.

And finally, he said, ''Because you're the only person who makes me feel like I'm still human. Like I'm more than what I was built to do. And that scares me more than anything.''

Your heart clenched.

''Sylus…''

''I'm not used to needing someone,'' he admitted. ''But I need you. And I didn't know how to say that without feeling like I was putting you in danger.''

''You're not,'' you whispered. ''You're just hurting both of us instead.''

He nodded, slowly. ''I know. I'm sorry.''

You reached out, brushing your fingers against his hand. He didn't move away.

''I don't want to be protected from your truth, Sylus,'' you said. '' I want to stand beside you, not behind you.''

he finally turned his hand over, letting your fingers intertwine.

''I can try,'' he said softly. ''If you'll let me fix this.''

You leaned into his shoulder, the silence between you no longer cold. But healing.

''I want to,'' you said. ''But next time…talk to me.''

''I will,'' he promised.

And somehow, in that quiet, broken space between heartache and hope, you began to believe him.

#lads #lads x reader #lads angst comfort #lads sylus #lnds #lnds x reader #lnds angst comfort #lnds sylus #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace angst comfort #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus angst comfort

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telephoniii · 4 months ago

Note

Do you accept requests? I really loved the Really him thing and was wondering if you could do that but him reacting to reader being in a polyamorous relationship with Malleus and Leona? Srry id u not comfortable with it. I thought id ask cuz there are like no poly fics

I’ve actually been debating whether or not to do requests. That and I was thinking about making a masterlist! If people really want to request stuff/have a masterlist then lmk and I’d be down to do it. My verdict rn is; if you have an idea, feel free to send it. 🤷

Also! It's not exactly polyamorous, but I've got a longer fic in the works abt Leona and Malleus being love rivals for the reader. So if that interests you than stay tuned!!

Anyways, lets get to the fun and whimsical stuff!

I’m not poly myself so I’m really sorry if anything is misrepresented. I did decide to add more than just Malleus and Leona since I thought it’d be fun! I hope you enjoy :>

REALLY…HIM? (Poly Addition)

malleus and leona

Oh, you’re going to give this man a heart attack. Because what do you mean you’re dating the two most powerful yet reckless students of them all. Malleus and Leona? The two have a heated rivalry, do they not?!Do you have no concern for your safety?!?!The amount of sheer power these two hold together frighten this poor soul. He tells you to keep your distance if they start to fight. As a magicless student, you do NOT want to get involved if a duel were to break out. No, Trein wants you to RUN if that ever happens. Give him some time to get used to it. The sight of you next to Malleus and Leona in the hallways sends panic throughout his nervous system. After a month or so, Trein mellows out. He’ll start asking technical questions that you don’t have answers to. “If you were to marry them both, would all three of you be the rulers of Briars Valley?” ??? No clue, Professor. Can I get back to my test in peace now?

ace and deuce

He’s not surprised in the slightest. Trein always had an inkling that something was going on between you three. He just didn't want to believe it. Why? Because he doesn't like them. Well, scratch that. He doesn't like Ace. Is he supposed to jump for joy at the fact you’re dating the biggest slacker among all the first years? Trein has a habit of nit-picking them both and what they do. However, despite all the smack he talks, deep down he heavily approves of the relationship. He knows the two boys and doesn't doubt their loyalty to you. It's always been the three of you from the start and he views it as an unbreakable bond. So, even though he makes a face when you walk in with Deuce’s sports jacket and says you should take it off because it smells like sweat, he finds himself smiling when he spots you three sitting together at lunch just enjoying each others company. The way you all joke around and laugh together like you’re the only people in the world. He trusts them with your heart more than anyone else.

vil and rook

He actually thinks it's a pretty sweet relationship at first. You all balance each other out. Vil and Rook earned Trein’s seal of approval to date you from day one… and then Rook sends him a creepy letter thanking him for being supportive and— yep. Trein takes back that seal because what the hell. For the senders name on the letter, it was by both Rook and Vil, so Trein pulls both of them aside to talk about HIS boundaries. (He thought he didn't have to explicitly say, “Don’t stalk me before, during, or after school hours” but here we are) Vil is so confused the whole time. What could've possibly prompted this?? Then he remembers his boyfriend next to him who’s blissfully smiling and it all starts to make sense. With a sigh, Vil ends up apologizing to Trein for the whole ordeal and tells you about it as well. Rook gives you a kiss and promises to just watch Trein from afar. You don’t know how much better that is and it seems like Vil is thinking the same thing as he lets out a small groan. Trein is forever unnerved by your relationship— specifically because of Rook.

jamil and azul

Honey, are you being manipulated into this relationship? Which one of them is gaslighting you? Trein knows that they both have deceptive tendencies and is concerned. He’s not actively against it or anything, but he just keeps a close eye on the three of you. Jamil and Azul pick up on this and silently agree to each other that they want to prove themselves to Trein. Expect to get the ultimate royalty treatment everytime the Professor is around. One moment they’re playfully poking fun at you, the next they are cherishing the ground you walk on. (As they should) Unfortunately, it ends up having the opposite effect where Trein is even more suspicious and starts telling you to keep your distance from them. Jamil lets out a tired sigh an decides to do the mature thing by actually talking to Trein about their relationship with you. He drags Azul along with him and makes sure to keep him in check during the discussion. Jamil’s honesty takes Trein by surprise. Usually he wasn't one to make himself notable like that. Azul, reluctantly, ends up being honest about his feelings and relationship regarding you after Jamil. Afterward, Trein doesn’t say anything the next time he sees the three of you together. Instead, he just gives you a small nod and smile. Wow. Ultimate approval. Jamil and Azul high-five each other under the table.

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darkbluekies · 6 months ago

Text

Christmas tendencies

Yandere!king x fem!reader

Summary: spending Christmas with Edmund can't go wrong<3 can it?

Warnings: Edmund not being nice, in fact being quite naughty, jealousy

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: i thought it'd be a waste to not post this when it was so near completion! So please enjoy and have a merry Christmas if you do celebrate it♡

As if on purpose, the snow has graced the earth for Christmas after not showing itself for the entirety of december. But now, a thick layer of snow covers everything that was once dead and grey. You can’t help but feel excitement. Maybe Christmas with Edmund won’t be hell after all?

You’re standing in one of the gigantic windows, looking out over the castle grounds—the very same you’re not allowed out in. The castle’s gardeners have decorated every bush, every tree, with lights and decorations.

“You’ve been standing here for a good forty five minutes now, my jewel”, Edmund says as he walks over to you, fixing his golden cufflinks. “How much more interesting can it get after ten?”

“You don’t get it”, you reply over your shoulder. “The gardeners have spent a lot of time decorating the grounds, shouldn’t one get to admire their hard work?”

You feel how Edmund comes up behind you, sneaks his arms around your waist and buries his chin into your shoulder.

“The staff has put a great detail into the interior too”, he mumbles. “Why don’t you stare at that for an hour or two?”

You scoff.

“I think it’s pretty”, you reply and turn your eyes out the window again. “With the snow and everything. Besides, I’ve already inspected every decoration inside, I helped hang them up.”

“You did, and it’s very pretty. Just like you. I like your dress.”

It’s a red velvet dress reaching down to the floor with long, cape sleeves.

You turn around to get a look at him. He's wearing a black suit with loose white pieces that puff out. Golden cufflinks and a white bow. His fluffy dark hair has been brushed back, face newly shaven—although there never was anything to shave to begin with.

“You look like you've been tortured”, you joke.

“Haha, funny”, he replies sarcastically, clearly not impressed. “I've told them time and time again that I have an extremely sensitive scalp but no one listens, they force me to do silly hairstyles like this. I think I must have lost at least half of my hair.”

You reach to fix a strand of hair that escaped his hairstyle. You can feel him shudder under your fingertips.

“You’ll live”, you say. “Besides, you look more grown this way.”

“Do I?” Edmund smirks proudly. “Do I look manly?”

“Don’t push it.”

He scoffs.

Weirdly enough, Edmund has agreed on letting you out of the castle today. Just because it's a special day. The townsfolk are having a market that you have begged to visit and who is Edmund to deny your Christmas wish?

“Are you ready, my love?” he asks and takes your hand. “The carriage it out on the front yard. Let’s get this over with.”

“Can’t you at least pretend to be excited?” you ask with a sad pout.

He sighs and rolls his eyes before nodding.

“I’ll have to take a long, scolding bath right after coming back”, he mutters. “Who knows what kind of diseases they can carry? Oh, you’re taking that bath with me, by the way. My Christmas wish.”

He’s like a child when it comes to your bare body, getting eyes wide as moons when he gets to see the most vulnerable parts of you. It confuses you. In his past he has allowed himself to a majority of women and their bodies, so why does he look at you as if he’s never seen it before?

It’s one of the few times you see him without his cocky exterior. He looks at you with eyes of gratitude, as if showing yourself to him is the greatest gift of mankind.

Edmund holds your hand tightly as you walk out to the royal carriage. The driver holds the door open for you, but Edmund insists on helping you up in it. He sits down in front of you. The carriage is decorated with golden details and small cherubs.

“You don’t have to look like you’re being driven to your execution”, you say and raise your eyebrows.

“I’m not happy about this”, he says. “This is something you want.”

“Can’t you be happy for me, then? Please, Eddie?”

His cheeks take on a red tone. The nickname has only been used by you, ever. You gave it to him, you’re the only one that is allowed to say it. The firs time you had said it, he hadn’t known how to react. He had been staring at you with large eyes, wondering what prompted you to give him a nickname when no one else had ever imagined to do such a thing. At first, he was unsure what he thought of the name. He was king Edmund. Had once been prince Edmund. Rarely Edmund. Never Eddie.

“Fine”, he says and clears his throat, trying to play it off. “I’ll try. But don’t call me that when we’re there.”

“Are you scared that the townsfolk will lose respect for you if they hear that you have a cute, little nickname?” you giggle.

Edmund rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward.

“No”, he says, smirking devilishly. “Because I don’t want other people to know what you call out in bed.”

Your jaw hangs open in shock and you grab the pillow behind your back, hitting him. Edmund covers himself with his arms, laughing.

“Watch the hair!” he shouts.

“You didn’t like the hair anyway”, you remind him.

“It’s Christmas, you’re supposed to be nice. Don’t be naughty!”

“Naughty? Who the hell started talking about naughty stuff? You started it!”

Edmund laughed. His blue eyes glittered.

The carriage rolls into the town. You turn your eyes out the window to look at what you’ve been watching from afar. You get out together, Edmund holding onto you so that you don’t fall. The townsfolk keep a distance, knowing that the knights will go to attack if they come to close. Their bright eyes watch on as if they’ve seen something extraordinary. And maybe, you think, for them this is something extraordinary.

Their eyes follow you to the christmas market.

“All eyes are making me shy”, you whisper to Edmund.

“Drink it all in, darling”, Edmund replies quietly. “They worship you, but not as much as I do … and if they try I’m going to kill them.”

“Be quiet!” you hiss.

Edmund scoffs and rubs your back with his hand. You walk through the streets to the town’s square where multiple small sheds are put up, full of candy, baked bread, knitted goods and alcohol. While you walk around chit-chatting with the vendors, Edmund stands close behind you, a hand on you always. A warning, to everyone around you. You are his, and no one is going to forget that—absolutely not you.

You buy something from every stand and insist of carrying it yourself. Edmund can’t understand why you want such … cheap crap. He can give you the same things but done well, made by professionals who cost him a fortune. He doesn’t let you eat anything and keeps a constant, watchful eyes around.

“Smile a bit more, why don’t you?” he mutters in your ear.

His jealousy is like a wildfire, spreading through him quickly and dangerously. With no easy way to stop it.

“Edmund”, you whisper quietly. “Stop it.”

“You bought so much from that man”, he continued. “What did you hope to achieve?”

“Edmund!”

He stays silent the rest of the Christmas market. As soon as you get back to the carriage, he can’t keep quiet anymore.

“Those are so fucking ugly”, says as the door to the carriage closes.

“That is so unnecessarily mean”, you hiss back at him. “They don’t have what you have. They do their best. And, for having as little as they do, I think they look great.”

You hold your new treasures in your lap closely.

“I don’t want to spend more time with you if you’re going to be like this”, you mumble without looking at him.

You’re happy for your new things. But he doesn’t understand. Edmund sighs heavily, clenches his jaw and nods.

“Okay”, he mutters and takes your hands in his. “I’m sorry … but I could have given you so much better things. If you wanted new mittens, I could have given you them. These things … who knows what could actually be in them?”

You put on the hand knitted mittens.

“Take them off”, Edmund says, but he doesn’t sound angry or demanding like before. “Darling, my jewel, I’m serious. I don’t want you getting a rash, or something.”

“We’re taking a bath when we get back, don’t we?”

Edmund sighs and gives up. You hold up your hands.

“Aren’t they kind of cute?” you ask. “A little?”

“Fuck no.”

“What if I had made them?”

“You wouldn’t have. If you had knitted mittens, they’d be a thousand times better.”

“You are so mean.” You keep your eyes on your hands. “You were jealous out there too.”

“Of them? Of those filthy peasants?”

“Of those men.”

Edmund leans back in his seat, jaw tightening.

“Men”, he scoffs and turns his head towards the window. “I wouldn’t call them ‘men’.”

“Childish jealousy doesn’t look good on a king”, you point out.

“You like it when I’m childish though. You laugh, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“You don’t need to be jealous over them. I don’t know them.”

“Everyone wants you. And it makes me sick.”

“Everyone wants you too.”

“They want to be me. But they want you. And I will never let that happen. You are mine.”

“I know. You’re the last person to let me forget that.”

When you get back to the castle, the two of you walk straight to the bathroom where the maids have poured a hot bubble bath that is burning to the touch. Edmund holds you close to him in his arms.

The rest of the day is spent in the big living room, in front of the gigantic christmas tree that needed a dozen workers to decorate. Edmund wanted the entire town to be able to see the lights from his tree.

“Merry Christmas, my love”, he says and holds out a red box.

You remove the wrapping smd open the box, finding a necklace with large, round pearls. It's heavy in your hands, and even heavier around your neck.

“These pears cost me quite a lot”, Edmund says and touches the pearls carefully. “But they're cheap in comparison to what my love for you is worth.”

And he means it. He really does.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere king #female reader

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surielstea · 5 months ago

Text

First Impressions

Pairing: Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: Rhys is a bumbling buffoon when it comes to meeting his mate for the first time.

Warnings: awkward tension, reader lives in the hewn city

A.Note: not totally proud of this one since it’s hard for me to write first meeting stories with a concluding ending, but I hope you guys enjoy :)

Word count: 4.8k words

The scratching at my door had me sitting up in an instant, my back pressing against the cold stone wall as my hand slid beneath my pillow, fingers curling around the worn hilt of my dagger. My breath came shallow, controlled, as I listened—waiting for another sound, another shift in the air that might give away whoever had decided to test their luck tonight.

Life in the Hewn City never allowed for restful sleep. Not when shadows slithered in every alley when cruelty pulsed like a second heartbeat through its streets. And especially not now that Morrigan was gone.

Her father's estate had been far from a sanctuary, but at least the sheer power Keir wielded had kept the worst of the monsters at bay. Here, in my apartment on the outskirts of town, I had no such protection. Only thin walls, shattered locks, and neighbors who wouldn't need a reason to break into a young female's bedroom—who wouldn't care that I was High Fae, not when my magic was little more than a flickering candle in the wind.

A shiver danced down my spine as I gripped my dagger tighter, pulling it free just as the handle of my door twisted. My breath stilled.

Wards should have held. I'd watched Mor herself etch them into the worn wood, her golden power laced with every careful stroke. And yet the door creaked open, the darkness beyond bleeding into my already shadowed room.

I made myself as small as possible, the blanket of night cloaking me enough to fool a drunk—most in this wretched place were—but if they stepped inside if they came closer...

A head popped through the gap.

Gold hair caught the dim light.

My breath punched from my lungs. "Morrigan."

I tumbled out of bed, my dagger forgotten as I all but threw myself at her. She caught me effortlessly, her arms wrapping tight around my waist, solid and real, her familiar scent washing over me.

"Oh, I've missed you," she murmured, holding me as if she'd been gone for years rather than two unbearable weeks.

I pulled back just enough to take her in, my hands framing her face, my eyes darting over her features, searching for any sign of injury. My stomach knotted at the gauze wrapped around her waist, but otherwise, she seemed unharmed.

"I thought you got out safe?" I whispered.

She smirked. "Forgot some things."

There was something reckless in her eyes, something sharp and unyielding.

My stomach tightened further. "Mor—"

"I'm getting you out of here."

Her grin was edged with mischief, with certainty.

—

I had heard the rumors—the hushed whispers exchanged between patrons in dimly lit taverns, drunken murmurs of a secret city our High Lord kept hidden from the rest of us. A place untouched by the cruelty of the Hewn City, a myth spun to keep fools hopeful.

I never believed a word of it.

But Velaris was real.

"The City of Starlight," Morrigan had said, her voice breathless with something I hadn't seen in her since we were reckless, ignorant children. She'd smiled then—wild, unguarded. And I had known, in that moment, that every whispered legend had been true.

The city thrived even in the late hour. Laughter and music curled through the streets, golden lights casting soft glows against dark stone. I had never dreamed a place like this could exist, not outside of bedtime stories and half-formed wishes. And yet, Mor guided me through its winding paths as if it were the most natural thing in the world, showing me pieces of the Night Court I had never dared to imagine.

Until, finally, she led me to a small cabin at the edge of a quiet clearing.

Warm light spilled from its windows, shadows dancing against the wood as the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter leaked into the night. It was a thrilling sound—carefree, safe.

Mor stepped onto the porch, her fingers curling around my wrist as she turned back to me with a smirk. "I've been living here for the past few weeks," she hummed, as if it were no great thing. "And I decided I missed my roommate."

Her words barely registered over the clatter of voices inside. I could hear the easy teasing, the playful shouts.

I hesitated.

"It's Rhysand's cabin, but—"

"The High Lord's?" I whirled on her, my stomach clenching.

Mor blinked, as if I'd said something absurd. "He's my cousin, you know?"

I did know that. Of course I did. But the knowledge didn't stop the shiver that traced my spine.

I had seen Rhysand twice in my life—twice was enough.

Both times, I had been convinced I would die right there on the spot, crushed beneath the weight of his power. It exuded from him like a second set of wings, dark and monstrous. The ground itself seemed to quake beneath his steps. To say he was powerful was an insult to the very meaning of the word. He was terror incarnate, the nightmare that lived in the dark corners of every court.

I had heard the stories—of him reaching into minds and shattering them from the inside out, twisting their own fears into weapons sharper than any blade. He did not need to lift a hand to kill.

My throat went dry. "He's not in there, is he?"

The words were barely a whisper, but Mor only shrugged, far too casual. "Sure he is."

I nearly choked. What?

"Mor—"

She didn't give me a chance to protest.

Her fingers curled around mine, firm and unwavering, and before I could think to dig in my heels, she had pulled me forward—up the steps, through the doorway, past the foyer—until I was standing in the heart of the house.

The moment we entered, the conversation stopped.

Four sets of eyes locked onto me.

Hazel. Silver.

And then—

A violet gaze, piercing and unrelenting, dilated with something unreadable.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Rhysand.

The High Lord of Night. The male who could level entire armies with a flick of his wrist, who could peel apart minds like flower petals and leave nothing behind. The nightmare whispered about in every corner of the Hewn City.

And he was staring at me.

His lips parted slightly, as if words had caught in his throat.

Mor, of course, was entirely unaffected. "Gentlemen," she said, grinning as she strode deeper into the sitting room. "And Amren."

The silver-eyed female merely flicked a gaze over Mor before cutting straight to me, a sharp, assessing glance that made my stomach twist.

I was still trying to school my expression into something other than imminent death panic when Mor gave my wrist a final squeeze and released me.

"I'd like you all to meet—"

"She's my mate."

Silence.

Utter, perfect silence.

Then—

A choked sound came from the male lounging in an armchair, wings draped lazily over its sides. He had dark hair, hazel eyes gleaming with delight, and an unmistakable aura of shit-eating amusement. That one must be Cassian.

Next to him, another male, shadows curled at his feet like living things, merely blinked—slowly, deliberately—before glancing at Rhys and murmuring, "That was subtle." And there's Azriel.

Rhys, for all his legendary cunning, looked like he wanted to launch himself into the Sidra.

"Mate?" I rasped, my stomach flipping over itself.

No. No, surely not. That was—impossible. I would've felt something.

Or have I all along?

"You must forgive our dear High Lord," Amren drawled, sipping from a glass of something dark. "He usually has more tact when announcing these things."

Rhys finally seemed to snap back into his body, straightening his spine with something like composed horror.

"What I meant to say," he amended, his voice dropping into something far smoother, far silkier—too smooth as if he were compensating, "is that it's a pleasure to meet you."

Cassian snorted. "You just said she was your mate."

"Yes, thank you, Cassian."

Azriel's lips twitched. "I think she got the message."

My head was spinning, my throat tight. But my body had stilled—not from fear, exactly, but from something else. Something coiling in my chest, something aware.

Rhys's gaze flicked to mine, and his expression softened instantly, all humor melting into something devastatingly gentle.

"It's late. You must be exhausted." His voice had dipped, his usual charm tempered with something achingly sincere. "Let me get you something to eat. Or drink. Or—are you warm enough? I can get you a blanket—"

Cassian was shaking with silent laughter. Azriel merely watched, like he was filing this away for later use.

Amren, however, had no such patience. "Oh, for Cauldron's sake," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "She's not a wounded animal, Rhysand, stop circling her like a mother hen."

"I just want her to be comfortable," he argued, flashing her a glare before turning back to me with something so devastatingly earnest that I nearly forgot who he was. What he was.

He liked me.

No—he wanted me to like him.

Rhysand, the most powerful High Lord in history, was tripping over himself to win my favor.

And somehow, that was more terrifying than any of the rumors I'd ever heard.

—

I wasn't entirely sure how I ended up sitting on a plush couch in the middle of the High Lord's cabin, wrapped in a ridiculously soft blanket that I didn't remember agreeing to. A cup of tea—also not requested—was placed carefully in my hands, steam curling in the dim candlelight.

Rhysand hovered nearby.

And I meant hovered.

He was standing at an awkward, not-quite-close, not-quite-far distance, shifting slightly as if debating whether he should sit or stand or vanish into the floor. His normally easy, fluid grace had been utterly abandoned, leaving him looking... well. Uncertain.

Cassian, sprawled in the armchair across from me, was barely keeping it together. His wings twitched every few seconds, his lips pressed tightly as if physically holding in his laughter.

Azriel, seated beside him, was far more composed—but the slight upward tilt of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

I took a sip of my tea, trying to make sense of all this.

The High Lord of the Night Court—the terror of the Hewn City, the most powerful male in existence—had declared me his mate. And then proceeded to fall apart before my very eyes.

I was still trying to process it when Rhys spoke.

"Would you like more pillows?"

I blinked. "What?"

His violet eyes were very, very wide. "You look like you could use more pillows."

Cassian made a strangled noise.

Azriel coughed into his fist.

"I—I'm fine," I said slowly, watching as Rhys's shoulders sagged in relief.

Too fast. All of this was happening too fast, I couldn't keep up.

"Are you sure? Because I can get more."

Cassian let out a wheezing breath, eyes shining with unrestrained delight. "Yes, Rhys. More pillows. That's definitely what she needs."

Rhys shot him a withering glare before turning back to me, smoothing his expression into something intended to be charming, but coming across as deeply, deeply desperate.

"Or food!" he blurted. "Have you eaten? I can make you something. Or, well, I can't make you something, but I can get someone to—"

"She has tea, Rhys," Amren cut in dryly. "You shoved it into her hands two minutes ago."

"I did not shove—"

"You definitely shoved," Cassian confirmed, barely containing his cackle. "I thought you were going to spill boiling tea all over your mate."

I flinch slightly at the term as Rhys shoots back with, "I was being thoughtful."

Azriel hummed, taking a slow sip of his own drink, the amber color telling me it was something much stronger than tea. "Is that what we're calling it?"

I had absolutely no idea what to do with any of this.

Rhysand—the charmer, the schemer, the legend—was unraveling at the seams in front of me.

Because of me.

"I can make my own food," I finally said, mostly just to say something.

Rhys visibly straightened. "Of course! Yes, I knew that. I just—" He ran a hand through his hair, his usual ease nowhere to be found. "I want you to feel at home."

Cassian grinned. "I think she'd feel more at home if you stopped looming over her like a lovesick bat."

Rhys's glare could have melted stone.

Azriel just leaned back in his chair, shadows curling lazily around his shoulders. "I don't think I've ever seen you like this," he mused.

Rhys turned his attention back to me, clearly trying to regain some dignity. He attempted one of his infamous smirks. "You must forgive them. They're not used to seeing me flustered."

Cassian clapped a hand to his chest, eyes sparkling. "Oh, it's a gift, truly."

Azriel nodded solemnly. "We should savor this moment."

Rhys looked seconds away from throttling them both.

I just stared at him, still gripping the cup of tea like it was the only solid thing in the world. "Are you okay?" I asked before I could stop myself.

His breath caught.

And for a moment, the amusement, the chaos—it all faded. His eyes softened, something raw flickering behind them.

"I'm fine," he said, voice lower now, steadier. "I just... I wasn't expecting this."

Neither was I. But still, something shifted in my chest at the way he looked at me—like I was something precious.

I wasn't ready to name that feeling.

But for the first time since I'd arrived, I didn't feel like running.

Slowly—mercifully—Rhys seemed to remember how to function again.

He settled into the chair across from me, still watching me with those impossibly violet eyes, but at least he wasn't hovering like I might vanish if he so much as blinked.

Not that he'd relaxed entirely.

No, because the moment I so much as shifted—adjusting the blanket, setting my tea down—he twitched as if preparing to leap to his feet and fix something.

If I asked for anything, I had no doubt he'd be up and fetching it before I could even finish the sentence.

But at least he was sitting.

Amren, on the other hand, was done with the entire situation.

With a long-suffering sigh, she stood and stretched. "Alright. That's enough of this."

Cassian perked up. "Of what?"

She shot him a withering look. "The two of you sitting here, watching this disaster unfold like it's a theatrical event."

Cassian grinned, utterly unrepentant. "Oh, but it is."

Azriel just sipped his whiskey, but the small smirk on his lips said everything.

Amren turned her glare to them both, then pointed at the door. "Out."

Cassian gaped. "But—"

"Out," she repeated, already making her way toward him.

Cassian barely had time to dodge before she grabbed his arm, yanking him up with surprising strength for someone so small. "Azriel, move," she barked.

Azriel, for all his shadows and lethal grace, barely managed to stifle a chuckle before obeying.

Rhys, looking very much like a male clinging to the last shred of his dignity, just sighed. "Amren, I hardly think—"

"Oh, please." She shot him a knowing look. "You want them gone."

Rhys opened his mouth. Closed it. Then glanced—too quickly—at me.

Cassian cackled. "Oh, this is so good."

"I hate all of you," Rhys muttered.

Cassian just grinned, throwing an arm over Azriel's shoulder as Amren shoved them both toward the door. "Love you too, brother!"

The door shut behind them then silence settled.

I exhaled slowly, my mind still spinning from all of this—this place, these people, Rhysand, sitting before me and looking as though he didn't quite know what to do with himself.

Mor, still seated beside me, gave a soft, reassuring smile. "Ignore them," she said. "They're menaces, but they mean well."

I nodded, unsure what to say.

She nudged me gently. "You doing okay?"

I hesitated.

Then, quietly, "I think so."

Mor's smile warmed. "Good." She stood, stretching. "I'm just down the hall if you need anything, okay?"

I nodded again. "Thanks, Mor."

She winked. "Get some rest."

And then, just like that, I was alone. With Rhysand.

Who, despite his best attempts to seem relaxed, looked about two seconds away from combusting.

The silence stretched for a beat too long before Rhys cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "So," he started, voice smoother now, steadier, "what do you think of Velaris?"

I exhaled, my grip loosening on the blanket around my shoulders as I glanced toward the window. The city lights still twinkled beyond the glass, mirroring the stars above.

"It's..." I searched for the right word. Magnificent."

His lips curved. "It is." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Not what you expected?"

A soft huff of breath left me. "In all honesty, I didn't even expect it to be real."

Rhys chuckled, low and warm. "Most don't."

I looked back at him. "How long has it been hidden?"

His expression turned thoughtful. "Since the war." His gaze flickered to the window, a distant look in his eyes. "My family—my court—has fought to protect it for centuries. It's the one place in all of Prythian untouched by war, by cruelty." He met my gaze again, and this time, there was something softer there. "Now it's yours, too."

Something shifted in my chest at that. The way he said it like I belonged here. I swallowed. "And the court?"

His smile returned, easy and knowing. "You've already met the worst of them."

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. "I don't believe that."

"Oh, you should." He smirked. "Cassian and Azriel? Winged buffoons. Mor? Chaos incarnate." He placed a hand on his chest, feigning solemnity. "And me? Well, the stories you've heard don't paint me in the best light, do they?"

A teasing edge now, that sharp, clever humor creeping into his voice.

I tilted my head. "No, they don't."

He grinned, but it softened as he glanced back outside. "You'll see for yourself, though." He hesitated, then added, "You'll be here for Starfall."

"Starfall?"

His eyes lit up, and suddenly, it was as if the shadows in the room no longer existed.

"You've never heard of it?"

I shook my head.

Rhys leaned closer, his voice dropping to something conspiratorial, enticing. "Once a year, the sky does something extraordinary."

I raised a brow, peering out the large arched window to look at the galaxy of stars just outside. "More extraordinary than usual?"

A chuckle. "Much more." He sat back again, watching me with a quiet sort of delight, as if he already knew I'd love it. "The stars don't just shine that night. They fall."

I blinked. "They fall?"

"Mmm." He traced a circle on the arm of his chair. "Not like shooting stars—though it looks similar. The souls of long-lost beings drift across the sky, shimmering trails left in their wake. It's..." He trailed off, searching for the word.

"Magnificent?" I supplied, unable to help the small smile tugging at my lips.

Rhys gave a slow, approving nod. "Very."

Something warm settled in my chest. For a moment, neither of us spoke.

And then, finally, I allowed myself to really look at him.

Not the High Lord. Not the nightmare. Just Rhysand.

And gods, he was handsome.

The kind of handsome that made the room feel smaller, the air feel warmer. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, those impossibly violet eyes that seemed to catch every flicker of candlelight. And the way he looked at me—like I was something precious. Like he already knew me, in some deep, unspoken way.

I cleared my throat, shoving away the thought. "It sounds magical."

He grinned, and for the first time, it wasn't the grin of a High Lord, or a male who held the power of nightmares in his hands.

It was just a smile. For me.

A slight yawn slipped from me, Rhys was instantly moving.

"Mother above, I've kept you up too late—" He was already leading me toward the hall, his steps brisk, his hands half-lifted as if he wanted to guide me but thought better of it.

I barely had time to keep up as he strode toward a door across from Mor's, gesturing to it like it was some grand reveal. "This is yours—of course, if you don't like it, we can find you another room, or a different house entirely, or—"

"Rhys—"

"I really should have let you rest earlier, I can be insufferable when I ramble, and—"

"Rhys."

"I hope you find everything comfortable, but if you need anything—extra pillows, a softer mattress, a different view—"

I pressed my palm to his chest. He froze.

His breath hitched, just barely—but I felt it beneath my hand, the sharp inhale, the slight stutter of his heartbeat.

His eyes locked onto mine, the violet darkening, blazing.

I had only meant to stop his spiraling apologies, but now... Now the air between us was thick with tension.

Something unseen curled and tightened, coiling like a living thing beneath my skin.

Rhys exhaled sharply through his nose. Slowly—reverently—his hand lifted, covering mine where it lay over his chest. His fingers curled just enough to hold me there, as if... as if he couldn't bear to let go.

Something between us shifted and I didn't have time to decide if it was for the better or not.

A pull, deep in my ribs. An ache that hadn't been there before.

Rhys went completely still.

Like he was waging some great internal war, fighting against a force that neither of us had yet spoken aloud. But I felt it.

The way his fingers tightened just slightly over mine. The way his lips parted like he was about to say something, only to think better of it.

The way his eyes—those star-flecked, devastatingly beautiful eyes—searched mine like they held the answer to something he'd been waiting for.

I should have stepped back.

I should have moved.

Instead, I stood there, heart pounding, fingers twitching against the soft fabric of his tunic.

Rhys swallowed, his throat working around the motion, but he said nothing. Did nothing. Just stood there, his chest rising and falling beneath my palm, his fingers flexing ever so slightly over mine like he was grounding himself—like he needed to hold on. I knew I should step back.

We had only just met.

Yet that fact seemed irrelevant, insignificant compared to the weight of the moment curling between us, thick as smoke.

Because I could feel it—something pulling me toward him, that bond deeper than attraction, sharper than longing. It was in the way his breath came uneven, in the way his gaze dropped, just briefly, to my lips before snapping back up to my eyes, a flicker of something raw, something wanting, breaking through his carefully placed walls.

His lips parted, like he might say something. Like he might stop this before it went too far.

I didn't let him. Didn't give myself the chance to second-guess, to think, to reason.

I surged forward.

Rhys barely had time to exhale before my lips met his. Soft. That was my first thought—how soft his lips were, warm and parting against mine as if in stunned surrender.

And then he was kissing me back.

A sharp inhale, his hand sliding up my wrist, curling around it like he couldn't quite believe this was happening—but wouldn't dare let go, either.

His other hand found my waist, light, hesitant, his fingers pressing in just enough to ground me, to anchor us both in the storm of whatever this was.

It wasn't desperate. It wasn't hurried. It was slow, tentative, a gentle exploration.

His nose brushed mine as he tilted his head, his lips parting wider, and I felt the way he breathed me in—like I was something to be savored, something he hadn't known he was starving for until now.

A small sound left me—something between a sigh and a whimper—and Rhys shuddered, his grip tightening ever so slightly, his fingertips pressing into my skin like he needed to remind himself this was real.

We lingered there, caught in something we didn't have a name for, something neither of us had expected but couldn't seem to pull away from.

His thumb brushed along my wrist, slow, reverent, as our lips moved together in a rhythm that felt achingly natural.

Like we had done this a thousand times before. Like we would do it a thousand times more.

When we finally parted, it was only enough to breathe, our foreheads pressing together, breaths mingling.

Rhys's fingers flexed at my waist.

"I—" His voice was hoarse, rough with something unspoken. He swallowed. "We should stop."

I exhaled shakily, my hands still fisting the fabric of his tunic.

"We should," I admitted.

His thumb traced slow, lazy circles along my wrist, like he was memorizing the shape of me, the feel of me.

And then, softer—softer than I'd ever heard anyone speak my name—

"But I don't want to."

I barely had time to whisper, "Neither do I," before he kissed me again.

His lips were still on mine, still moving, still taking, even as he rasped against my mouth, "We can't."

But he didn't stop. Didn't pull away.

If anything, his hands tightened at my waist, fingers pressing into my skin like he was anchoring himself—like he was fighting a losing battle against whatever force was unraveling between us.

I gasped as his tongue slid against mine, slow and thorough, like he was trying to memorize me, like he was desperate to learn every piece of me with nothing more than his lips, his hands, his breath.

"Rhys," I whispered, not knowing if it was meant to be a plea or a warning.

He groaned, his forehead pressing against mine, his breath coming out in short, uneven pants.

"I want to know you," he said, his voice so raw, so gutted that it sent a shiver down my spine.

Then his lips were on mine again, harder, deeper, like he was proving it, like he needed me to believe him.

"I want to know everything," he murmured against my mouth, between kisses that left me gasping, left me trembling, my fingers still tangled in his hair. Another kiss, this one rougher, hungrier. "Everything."

I whimpered against his lips, barely able to think, barely able to breathe with the way he was consuming me, the way his words were carving themselves into my ribs.

He groaned, like the sound was being ripped from him. "I—" He shuddered. "Tell me to stop."

I froze beneath him, blinking up at him, my head spinning, my lips swollen from his kisses.

He swallowed hard, his breathing uneven, his hands flexing at my sides.

"Tell me to stop," he repeated, voice ragged, "because I don't think I can on my own."

His words hung between us, raw and trembling, his breath fanning against my lips. I could still taste him, still feel the imprint of his hands at my sides, as if he had branded himself into my very skin. My heart pounded against my ribs, my body warring between the pull of the bond and the sliver of hesitation curling in my chest.

I slipped my hands from his hair, brushing my fingers along his jaw, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. "Rhys," I whispered, my voice barely a breath.

His eyes, dark and blazing with emotion, searched mine. I saw the restraint there, the war he was fighting within himself, the way his hands trembled against my sides.

I swallowed, forcing myself to find the words through the haze of want clouding my mind. "I'll accept the bond," I murmured. His breath hitched, his entire body going utterly still. "I just need some time."

A heartbeat passed. Then another. And then—he exhaled, his forehead pressing against mine, his entire frame shuddering. His hands skimmed up my sides, gentle now, reverent, like he was memorizing every inch of me before letting go.

"You could take centuries," he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple, featherlight. "Beyond that, if you wanted. I'd wait for you, always."

Something in my chest ached, something too big to name. I closed my eyes, breathing him in, the warmth of him, the endless patience laced in every word.

I tilted my head up, pressing the softest of kisses against his lips—nothing like the desperate, fevered ones from before. Just a promise. Just a thank you.

His hands lingered on my waist, like he wasn't quite ready to let go, but he didn't stop me as I pulled away. A small smile tugged at my lips. "Goodnight, Rhys."

His eyes softened, something almost wistful in them. "Goodnight, my love."

With a final glance, I turned and slipped into my room, closing the door behind me. And even then, I could still feel him—like a shadow, like a promise—waiting.

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mickandmusings · 11 months ago

Text

you’re losing me

pairing: tyler owens x f! reader

word count: 5.2k

summary:

when tyler, yet again, forgets an important date while he's caught up in chasing, y/n is at her wits end. their relationship feels like it's dying, and he just might have dealt the final blow. after a series of rather unfortunate happenings, it's up to the rest of the wranglers to set them free from the disaster they created.

warnings: ANGST with a capital a; tyler is kind of an ass; halfway edited (sorry); forced proximity; not my most favorite thing i've ever written; sort of suggestive but not explicit

The ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall taunts her, reminding her that time was continuing to pass by. She taps her fingers against the table, her patience fleeting.

Y/N picks up her phone to check it for nearly the twentieth time in the past half hour. She had hoped to look down and see a missed call or an apologetic message from her boyfriend, who, at present, is an hour and a half late for their anniversary dinner. She had the table set for two some time ago: a home cooked meal in the oven, a bottle of white wine to split, and a candle lit in the center of the table. She sported a flowy sundress that tapered off mid-calf-Tyler's favorite dress on her-one that she just knew was going to end up on the floor of their bedroom by now.

Clearly, she'd been mistaken.

She presses the button on the side and the screen illuminates the dimly-lit room. The only thing that greets her is an empty lockscreen- a picture of Tyler smiling down at her as she looks up at him, taken over a year ago. She sighs in annoyance, putting the phone back down as the tear in her heart only grows bigger and bigger. She'd known this would happen, and despite all her efforts to avoid it, he had still forgotten.

She'd started two weeks beforehand, by telling him that she wanted to spend the night of their anniversary with him, alone. He'd agreed, claiming it was a great idea. That night, she put the reminder in his phone calendar and wrote it into the paper one that lived on his fridge. A week before, she'd mentioned it a thousand times: over dinner, during grocery shopping, and even during post-bliss pillow talk. He'd pull her into his arms and kiss her head, assuring her every time that he'd be there with bells on. Naively, she had believed him. Now, she was sitting alone at his dinner table in her prettiest sundress, feeling like a complete fool.

Her phone dings, and she feels the rip in her heart stitch itself back together for a slight moment. When she notices it's not Tyler, her shoulders slump.

The Tornado Wranglers are LIVE! Click here to watch now!

She's quick to click it, watching as it loads before she sees Boone's face in the frame, the top of Tyler's hat visible. Her heart shatters, watching as her boyfriend smiles and hollers for the camera, chasing a storm. She'd known there was a big storm forming for the past few days: when Tyler went out on a chase, she watched the weather as if it were a nail-biting thriller. Hearing him on the livestream had been the first time she'd seen or heard from him all day, despite his promises to be next to her this very moment.

She exits the live and stands from the dinner table, already knowing her boyfriend wouldn't be home any time soon. She blows out the candle and puts the unopened wine back in the kitchen, wrapping the dinner she'd made in tin foil and tossing it into the fridge. Despite her simmering anger, she knew Tyler would come home drenched, so she set out a dry change of clothes and a towel on the washing machine for him to see. Shaking her head, she bit her lip and swallowed thickly as she moved to the en suite bathroom and changed out of the dress, her perfectly curled hair wasted. She throws on her pajamas and her (intentionally not Tyler's) hoodie, climbing into her side of their shared bed. She plugs her phone into the charger and switches on the silent function, not wanting to be bothered as she wallows. Finally, she plops down onto her pillow and curls under the blankets, her annoyance slowly fading into disappointment. She tries to push the tears back, feeling stupid for crying over something so trivial, but it had hurt that he'd forgotten something that was supposed to be important to both of them. She feels asinine, like a dog with a bird at his door, only to be shut out. A choked sob slips past her lips, and she's done for. She curls in on herself, legs to her chest as she cries until her body could no longer take it, and lets her eyes shut for sleep.

Hours later, Tyler stumbles into his house, plopping off his soaking wet boots on the rug at the garage door. He's slightly dry from his ride home, but his clothes still cling to his skin, making him shiver when he walks into the house. He turns to lock the door behind him, shuffling into the laundry room that connected the garage and the house. He puts his wet hat on the hook, peeling out of his sopping shirt and jeans, finding a change of clothes and towel set out for him. He smiled, knowing he'd likely find his girlfriend passed out on the couch with the weather forecast still playing on the screen. He changed quickly, hands itching to pull her into his hold and fall into a deep sleep. As he leaves the laundry room and heads to the kitchen, he notes the dinner table set with placemats and silverware next to them. He gives the set up a confused look before shrugging, tossing back a glass of water before walking towards the living room.

The empty room stops him in his tracks completely. The TV had been shut off, only a black screen staring back at him. There had been no indication that Y/N had been here at all-the blankets were folded neatly into the basket, pillows still upright and straight. He looked for anything-a charger plugged into the wall, her current read on the coffee table, an empty mug-but found no signs of the girl he loved. 'Maybe she had an early night,' his mind tried to grasp an explanation of why she wasn't where she always was when he was out on a chase.

Tyler's hand wipes his face, rubbing his tired eyes as he stomps up the stairs to their shared bedroom. The hallway is cloaked in darkness, and he has to use his phone's flashlight just to make his way to the door. He turns it off when he turns the knob and pushes the door open, not wanting the blinding light to disturb her. He makes out her figure curled into her side of the bed, looking small. He frowns again, it was always guaranteed she'd be curled into his pillow if he was gone, often wrapped in some article of his clothing, if not completely dressed in only his clothes.

Wordlessly, he comes to her side of the bed to kiss her head, checking in to make sure she was okay. Moonlight from the window illuminates her face, and he finds his chest tightening as he looks at her. Tears had dried to her skin, and a frown was etched onto her face, even in her slumber. He pushes hair from her face, finding the strand curled, and kisses her forehead lightly. He pulls the covers over her more, making sure she was entirely tucked in. With a worried frown now marking his own face, he shuffles to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He opens the door and flicks on the light, the sight in front of him bringing his confusion to new heights.

A white sundress stares back at him, sitting crumpled on the counter. The puffy sleeves are deflated, and the slit on the leg had flopped over, exposing the other side of the fabric. This dress only made an appearance for special occasions, mainly because he couldn't keep his hands off of her when she wore it. She'd talked about it for weeks, she was going to wear it on their anniver-he stills-no. Tyler's heart sinks to his feet, hammering against his chest so loudly it rattles his eardrums. There is no way he'd forgotten. The unusual things in his home began to add up, and, with shaking hands, he reaches for his phone and stares down at the photo of her smiling back at him. She's standing in a poncho, drenched, but smiling as she uses her hand to point towards a barreling storm in the distance. Sure enough, in the slew of notifications he'd ignored, sits a calendar reminder:

'Our anniversary date ;) <3'

He plops down on the side of the tub and scrolls through the messages and calls Y/N had left, clicking on the voicemail she'd left, her sweet voice filling his ears:

'Hey Ty, it's almost nine, I just...um, just checking on you. I-I don't know if you're just running late or you forgot, but...I love you, see you soon. Be careful, please. Call me when you get this.'

He pieces it together quickly-the table set up for two, his favorite dress she'd been wearing, her hair curled just to look nice for him-the realization guts him. He had been stupid, so caught up in the thrill of the chase he completely forgot about the one thing that always brought him home. His brain recalls her excitement over the dinner she would cook, and he had planned on bringing flowers and her favorite sweets from that bakery downtown, hoping to charm that dress right off of her. He pushes his damp hair back with his hands, he had fucked up, and royally. The reason she hadn't done the things she normally did when he was gone was because he wasn't supposed to be gone at all.

He breaths deeply before brushing his teeth, sliding into the bed next to her and pulling her close. He'd hold her while he could, because he'd spend the next few days groveling for her forgiveness. He'd wake up early-clean up the dishes from last night, cook her breakfast, do the laundry, pick up groceries for the week. Hell, he'd kiss her fucking feet if it meant she'd forgive him. His eyes shut closed with sleep, and night quickly fades into morning.

Y/N is the first to wake, her skin burning under Tyler's touch. She immediately rolls away from his grasp, and the content look on his sleeping face makes her flame with anger. She rolls her eyes and stomps out of the room, purposefully slamming the door to the bedroom enough to rattle the frames on the walls. The noise jostles Tyler from his sleep, and he sits up in his bed, allowing himself only a minute of solitude before he realizes he's under the dog house.

Quietly, he stomps down the stairs, finding Y/N already standing at the sink, sleeves pushed up as she scrubs at a pot hastily. Her face is drawn into an angry frown, and the air is thick with tension. There's none of her music filtering through the tiny speaker in the window, none of her humming as she works. She's angry, she's hurt, and all she really wants is an apology.

"Mornin'," his voice is raspy, and he awkwardly hovers behind her, watching from a distance as she ignores him. He comes over and lightly grabs her arm, attempting to take over the task. "I can do that, darlin', you go sit at the bar and I'll cook you breakfast, yeah?"

She snatches her arm from his grasp and gives him an unpleasant look, only returning to the dishes in front of her as she shakes her head. He gives a deep sigh, stepping away from her to give her space.

Her silent treatment was always the worst.

"Baby, please, I-I know I fucked up, I'm just trying to make it up to you, let me-"

She lets out an angry laugh, dropping the pot back into the soapy sink with a shake of her head. Her veins fill with a fury she can't control, and she's almost blinded by her rage.

"Fucked up is an understatement, Tyler."

Her angry words were piercing, but at least she was talking.

"Y/N/N, I know, I'm going to make this up to you. I'll-"

"I don't want to hear your lies that I hear every time you mess up, Tyler. You're not going to take time away from chasing, so you can stop feeding me that same lie."

Her honesty stops him in his tracks. He starts to feel defensive, his own anger rising to the surface.

"Just listen-"

The bowl she's cleaning clamors against the other dishes in a loud fashion, making him jump slightly as she turns to face him. Fury is written across her face completely.

"No! You listen! I planned this for weeks, Tyler, weeks! I did everything, the cooking, the cleaning, the waiting around for four fucking hours! All you had to do was show up, and you couldn't even do that."

She swallows thickly, the anger beginning to fester into the sadness she'd been shoving down. Her chest moves in short breaths, and she tries to control her breathing as she looks up at him. He notes her teary eyes-she's not really angry, she's hurting.

"It would've been fine if this was a one off thing, but it isn't. You and I both know that." Her voice is lacking the fire it once had, replaced with a wave of vulnerability she rarely lets show. She pauses and wipes her hands with the kitchen towel in her hands. Her eyes dart across the room in thought, never meeting his. "First it was my birthday, and then not just one, but two dates, and now this. Every other time I just let it go, not wanting to start anything, but I can't anymore, because it just keeps happening. Tyler, I love you, but you're breaking my heart."

Her bottom lip wobbles as she takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders, trying to have a conversation with the man she was begging to love her the way she loved him.

"I'm not asking you to give it up, I'm just asking for one day, maybe every couple weeks? I feel like I sleep next to you but I never see you, and-," her eyebrows furrow before she takes a defensive step back, crossing her arms over her chest. "I just don't want to have to beg you to want to spend time with me."

Tyler's heart shatters. He fumbles to come up with the right words, knowing the wrong ones could ruin everything. He loved her immeasurably, and he'd been so goddamn blind. His mind raced with the dozens of things she does for him without being asked-making sure he had dry clothes after chasing, ensuring he had a decent meal every time he came home, tens upon hundreds of tiny actions that he had taken for granted. When was the last time he'd done something like that for her? The one time she had asked him, weeks in advance, to save a day for her, he had neglected it completely, unintentionally or not.

She looks down at her feet, feeling so incredibly small, invisible, like the man in front of her can't see her at all. She was tired of trying to keep their relationship alive all on her own. She wasn't in denial that Tyler loved her, she knew he did, but the last few months had felt as if he hardly remembered she was there. Her anxiety spirals-did he really love her, or was she just convenient for him?

"I know that chasing is important to you, and I love seeing you do it, but it always comes before me. I just want to know, will I ever come first?" Her voice is so, so hurt, and the girl he knows has withered away. The only thing that remains is the shell of her in front of him, pleading for him to just notice her. "It's okay if not, I-I just need to know. Because I can't keep having this fight, just tell me the truth so if the answer is no, I can move on."

Tyler's heart hammers, his own insecurity flaring.

"W-What? No, no, chasin' doesn't come before you, ever. Y-You know that."

She gives him a doubtful look.

"You do know that right?"

"Tyler, name one time that you've dropped everything from chasing a storm to do something for me?"

She stands leaned against the counter, arms crossed in front of her. His mind cannot conjure one situation, and he knows she's right, he'd never put her first. Not once. He had missed her birthday party just last month for a big storm over in Kansas, on his own. The rest of the Wranglers had even cancelled to be there for her. Both Boone and Lilly both had called him from the party to reprimand him, and he'd stayed anyways. Then he'd done it again, twice, just two weeks later. Each time, she'd forgiven him with open arms, never fighting him on it, simply accepting his lie that he'd never do it again.

She simply nods, waiting to see how long it would take Tyler to realize just how miserable this had been for her. He grows defensive, trying to make excuses for his actions.

"That storm in Kansas, w-we haven't seen a storm that scale since-"

"Tyler, save it," she starts, her voice growing an edge. "You answered my question, that's all I needed to know."

He watches as she literally and metaphorically throws in the towel, a somber look written across her face.

“I-I need some air.”

She says nothing else, only sliding on her shoes and slipping out the garage door. He expects to hear the jangling of her keys and then the roar of her car’s engine, but neither come-she’d taken out on foot.

Tyler ignores the rush of tears that threatened to spill from behind his eyes, his chest so full of guilt it feels like he might combust from one single sob. He stews in his emotions as he resumes the task she'd started-at least when she got back, the dishes would be one less thing for her to worry about. As his hands scrubbed at various pots and pans, he thought about the thousands of things he wanted to do to show her that he was serious. He wanted to run after her, to pull her back into his house, but he knew she needed her space, time away from him to think. Tyler wrestles with his emotions, knowing this could very well be the end of them, and it'd be his fault entirely. He'd let the best thing in his life slip entirely out of his grasp, all because he'd had his head in the clouds. It had been obvious to everyone around him, except him. How had he been so blind to her anguish?

He moves around the kitchen in complete silence, only the rattle of the dishes he's putting away filling his ears. He ponders over the dark hue forming across the sky, wishing Y/N had taken a jacket or an umbrella with her. He wonders if he should call her, just to tell her that he could leave while she stayed here, he didn't want her in the rain. He doesn't overthink it and pulls up her contact, letting it ring before he hears vibrating. His eyes turn to the direction of the noise.

Shit.

She'd left her phone here.

He turns his attention to the slew of missed messages on his own phone. Just twenty minutes ago, Dexter had texted him about a storm forming just miles from his home. The messages after were from Dani, Boone, and Lilly, all asking if he and Y/N were okay. His eyebrows pinched and he frowned, about to respond with a question mark before he heard the shrill ring of the tornado siren outside his window. His eyes glance up to see a darkening sky, heavy clouds sitting low in the sky.

He tosses his phone into his pocket before he's pulling on his still-wet boots and bolting out his garage door. A tornado was minutes from hitting here, and his girlfriend was wandering around aimlessly. She couldn't have gone far, his house sat miles from town, the only neighbors being a relatively empty home the next street over-the family only visited during the winter months, they paid him handsomely to keep their grass cut when they weren't in town-so he knew that she wouldn't have anyone to look out for her. His boots clicked on asphalt, his voice hoarse as he yelled after her, her name falling desperately from his lips as the wind whipped around his face.

With no signs of her appearing, his heart began to hammer against his chest. Rain began to pelt his clothes and it only urged his aching legs to move faster. His mind conjures images he fears-her stuck under a collapsed tree or shed, left for dead because he'd been stupid. They urged him to the neighbor's house, chest searing with anxiety as he heaved, still not seeing anything-no flashes of the simple dress she'd been wearing, or the cardigan she'd wore over it tossed somewhere. Before his brain could stop him, he was pulling the spare key from under the mat, all but trespassing into his neighbor's home, shouting her name. Nothing.

He slams the door, running a hand through his hair as he begins to panic. His chest feels tight, his mind growing fuzzy with the thought of her being out in this storm alone. The air only grows more thick, and a crack of lightning startles him. It sends him into taking off on foot in their backyard, even slinging open the door of the storm shelter to see if she'd hid there. It was empty, making him let out a string of curses to the sky.

Then, he hears her voice. He almost thinks he's imagining it, her tone is sweet and gentle, and he thinks he's losing his mind.

"Hey, it's okay little guy."

It's the voice he knows well-the voice she uses for animals and babies. His jade eyes turn to see her hair blowing in the wind, her dress wet from the weather. She's crouched down and attempting to move a stack of firewood from the neighbors yard, her eyes on alert she hears Tyler's footsteps crunch the ground behind her. She whips around, looking at him.

"Tyler, help me, there's a rabbit, he's stuck."

Tyler looks at her with wide eyes. His voice is loud over the sirens blaring in the air and the wind whipping.

"Darlin', there's a big ass storm coming right for us! Leave it! We gotta get down, now!"

Her eyes are fiery when she turns back to look at him.

"Then leave, but I'm not leaving him here!"

Her hands hastily moved large pieces of firewood, getting more and more drenched. She lifts a particularly heavy one and throws it across the grass.

"If you're just going to stand there and not help, then go! I don't need you hovering because you care all of a sudden!"

Tyler's heart shatters, she thought he didn't care? Of course he cared, but he was more concerned with keeping her safe. He sighs at her stubbornness, moving to help lift the firewood at a faster pace. She lifts a particularly stubborn piece, drawing her hand back quickly with a soft 'fuck!' He tosses her a concerned look but moves on working to get the firewood moved. His muscle flexes as Tyler throws the piece caging the animal in and watches as it bolts towards the treeline. He slings an arm around her shoulder as the roar of the storm grows closer, all but manhandling her into the storm shelter he'd just looked in. It wasn't shabby by any means, well stocked and clean, but small. He shuts the door with a grunt, turning to face her and watching as she digs through a first aid kit.

"What're you doin'?"

She says nothing, only sticking out her right hand for him to see. It's bleeding from a cut, tiny pieces of wood protruding from around it.

"Shit, baby," he moves to grab the kit from her. "Stop, just stop tryin' to do it on your own, it's only going to get worse."

She stills, looking up at him with dagger-like eyes.

"Look, you did your job. I'm safe here, you can go."

Go? Where the hell did she think he was going?

"I know you're itching to go chase it, it's probably going to be a big one."

Oh.

"You think I'm going to leave you here alone to go chase this thing?"

She shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time."

It's his turn to look offended, even though he shouldn't be. She was only speaking the truth. He knows he would be quick to defend himself, but he doesn't, knowing the hurt he'd bestowed upon her just hours beforehand. He lightly tugs the kit away from her, giving the soft, sympathetic eyes that had her hardened heart melting. He makes quiet work of removing the shards of wood, and moves to clean it with the tiny bottle of rubbing alcohol. She winces when it makes contact with the open wound, but a sweet kiss to her temple has her distracted as he finishes bandaging it. When he looks down at her, he finds her eyes already looking up at him. The look she gives him begs him to say something, to just apologize and say he'd do better, and actually mean it this time. He opens his mouth to speak, but it's cut off by a boisterous slam to the shelter door, one that startles Y/N, and she slides into his hold without thinking.

"What the hell was that?!" Her voice trembles.

"I don't know." He doesn't want to move her from his arms, but he needs to see what's going on. He kisses her temple again, setting her on the twin sized mattress that sat on the ground. He makes his way up the stairs of the shelter, moving to push the door open. He knows it's a stupid, risky move, but he does it anyway.

He pushes it forward, the door not even budging. He frowns, moving positions to put his entire body weight on the door, and the door remains shut. He pushes with his entire strength multiple times, before his mind draws a conclusion.

"It's probably a tree or somethin'," He sighs as he steps away from the door. "Probably got knocked down by the wind, fell over on top of the door."

"So we're trapped here?"

"For the time being, yes," He starts, coming to sit down next to her, her head resting on his shoulder. "But I'll get in touch with Dexter and Dani, maybe Boone too. See if one of them can get a truck out here and move it. We'll have to wait for this storm to pass though."

He fishes out his phone and begins to type, his eyes darting across the screen before Dexter's typing bubble finally forms into a message.

'We'll be there as soon as this storm settles!'

Y/N nods when he shows her the message, moving to rest her head on his chest, her heart racing. Without a word, he pulls her into his lap, his eyes now focused on her bandaged hand. She notes his concern quickly.

"It's fine, doesn't even really hurt. Just stings."

He shakes his head.

"Doesn't matter. You got hurt, again, because I did somethin' dumb as hell. Seems like all I've done for the past few months is hurt you. M'sorry, I really am. I fucked up, and I'm prepared to grovel for it."

She nods, biting her lip as she pushes a section of wet hair out of his face.

"You did, but that doesn't mean you can't fix it. Just, this time, promise you'll actually do what you say you will. Don't let it be empty words."

He makes an 'X' motion over the center of his chest-cross my heart-and watches as a small smile forms across her face. He notes it's genuine nature and it forms a smile of his own across his face.

He pulls her head softly under his chin, moving his face to where he's whispering directly into her ear. She leans into his warmth, still shivering from her damp clothes.

"I love you," his voice is a sincere whisper, laced with every ounce of emotion he can muster. She kisses the underside of his jaw, making him close his eyes and sigh.

"I know. I love you too, even when you really piss me off."

He lets out a chuckle, kissing behind her ear, a spot that makes her entire frame stiffen in his hold. He places another one just under it, making her pull away for a moment.

"You're playing with fire, Owens. What are you gonna do, take me on this twin mattress on the floor?"

Her voice is laced with sarcasm and humor, completely joking. One look in his now emerald green irises tells her he wasn't joking, not one ounce of him thought it was a joke.

"Well, might as well start my grovelin' as quickly as possible, got a lot to catch up on." He kisses the spot again, making her hand fly to his damp hair. "And I haven't done this in far too long."

His hands come to her hips, pulling her in even closer in his lap. His calloused hands land on her ass, and she yelps.

“Ty, you can’t be serious.”

He sends her a raised eyebrow. His hand squeezes the supple skin of her bottom.

“Baby,” his voice is just above a whisper, deathly serious, his gaze darkening. “When have I ever joked about taking you any time, any place?"

Y/N shudders. "Never."

"That's what I thought."

His lips connect with hers in a rough manner, effectively shutting her up.

A few hours later, as Y/N lies across Tyler's chest, her dress tossed somewhere, she's awoken by a sharp knock at the shelter door.

"T? Y/N/N? Hey, we're here. We're gonna get this tree off of y'all!" Boone's voice fills her ears and she all but scrambles up, face flushed red with embarrassment at the thought of them walking into the shelter to see her and Tyler both bare. Tyler only snoozes and turns over, and she rolls her eyes, he'd sleep through a hurricane-literally. She grabs his shirt and lightly pops him with it.

"Tyler!" She whispers-shouts, quickly buttoning up the front of her dress she'd found on the floor. His jade eyes pop open, shuffling off the blanket that had been draped across him for his modesty.

"Hm, what?" His voice comes out groggy.

"Get up, get dressed, they're here!" She throws her cardigan back on her shoulders as she tosses his jeans over to him, his belt buckle just missing his head. Tyler rubs his eyes tiredly, not quite awake enough for him to care about being completely naked.

Y/N turns to him to fuss, but she's cut off at the creaking of the storm shelter's door opening. She stills, face burning from a hot blush. From above ground, Boone, Dani and Dexter look down at them, the latter two jaws dropping and darting their eyes away. Boone clocks Tyler and swallows thickly.

"Ty, man, I am seein' entirely way too much of you right now."

taglist:

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

@rebel-ezra

@fanboysfangirl

@mbioooo0000

#tyler owens x you #tyler owens twisters #tyler owens x reader #tyler twisters #tyler owens #twisters #request #glen powell x reader #glen powell #glen powell x you

3K notes · View notes

sparklysung · 6 months ago

Text

✨SHARING IS CARING - l.d.h.✨

pairing – lee donghyuck x female!reader

genre – smut, fluffish | non-idol!au, roommates!au, friends (?) to lovers!au

warnings – oral (m. and f. receiving), face sitting, cum eating, squirting, exhibitionism (reader touches hyuck while he's on a call with his friends), unprotected sex (pls don't), lots of cursing, mentions of hyuck masturbating to the thought of reader), a little possessiveness at the end, panty thief!hyuck.

word count – 5.733 words

summary – where your roommate from hell is also hot as hell, and both of you enjoy annoying the hell out of each other.

note – so... i've been working –on and off but still– on this for about maybe 2 years? i just recently got inspiration to finish it lol any feedback would be greatly appreciated, just pls be kind <3 anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this!

“hey, y/n. have you seen my-.”

“how fucking rude of you to just walk in unannounced. what if i was naked or something? learn how to knock, you airhead.”

your face turned into an ugly scowl when your roommate and the cause of all your nightmares –and wet dreams–, lee donghyuck, completely ignored your complaint, looking equally annoyed as you.

“shut up,” the boy sneered, “is that my fucking shirt you have on right now? i’ve been looking for it for the past three days!”

you let your eyes trail down your body, the graphic tee barely long enough to cover your ass as your fingers toyed with the hem of the garment.

“oh, yeah. i found it while doing laundry and thought it looked good on me so i decided to keep it,” you shrugged carelessly, “don’t you agree, hyuck?”

the piece of clothing that was oversized on him fitted even bigger on you, drowning your smaller frame. you looked so soft and warm in it, so incredibly comfy the tip of his fingers itched to touch you. to feel your perky breasts through the soft fabric of his shirt.

he couldn’t deny it, you did look awfully good in his clothes.

but he would rather shit in his hands and clap than admit it out loud. especially to your face.

“i mean yeah you look good,” donghyuck mumbled under his breath, shamelessly licking his chapped lips.

when he noticed the sly grin etched on your face he had to pinch himself to force his eyes away from your alluring figure, careful not to get distracted by your smooth legs gracefully spread across the bed.

shaking his head, he tried to remember why he had almost left a dent on your wall from the way he had slammed your bedroom door open in the first place.

“but that’s not the point here. you stole my clothes!”

his words made you scoff loudly, clearly pretending to be offended by his accusation. “i still don’t see the problem. didn’t your mom teach you to share?”

your blank expression and unbothered attitude was so incredibly infuriating donghyuck felt like plucking his eyelashes one by one. and he had no doubt in mind you were well aware of it.

although most of your conversations consisted of you both bickering back and forth like two middle school kids fighting for the same toy, donghyuck had learned how that evil little mind of yours worked throughout the time you lived together.

your roommate may have not been the brightest lightbulb of all, but anyone with two working brain cells could agree that there was no activity in this world, nothing, that gave you as much joy as annoying the living hell out of him.

truth is, nothing could have prepared you –or donghyuck– for the turn of events your life would take in the span of 24 hours. the moment you opened the front door to your dorm apartment –fully expecting to see a fellow uterus-bearer–, to him, luggage in hand and ready to move into the room next to yours, you made it your ultimate goal to terrorize the poor boy.

and how could you not? your roommate-from-hell made it so easy for you to read him like an open book. one look at his face, at those big, expressive eyes and you could almost hear his thoughts.

“that’s my lucky shirt, i need it back. right now.”

“don’t you see i need it too? what am i supposed to wear if you take it away from me?”

“i don’t really care, y/n, that’s not my problem.”

“then come here and take it off yourself.”

the small gasp that tumbled out of his plush lips made a warm feeling pool at the pit of your stomach. if it weren’t because you were trying to fuck donghyuck and not fuck with donghyuck, you would have giggled.

“w-what?”

“you heard me. if you want it back you’ll have to come take it off with your own hands.”

“you’re fucking crazy. i-i, what the fuck, y’know i can’t do that!” donghyuck cried out, his skin beginning to prickle with frustration, heart rate spiked up to reach dangerous speeds. “c’mon, y/n, just give it back already. the guys are waiting for me.”

“too bad.”

your pouty lips had him clenching his fists. not only to stop himself from choking you to death, but also to ground himself. he could feel a droplet of sweat drip down the back of his neck, body temperature rising concerningly fast at your very clear attempt at taunting him.

if only he could have them stretched around him, struggling to fit the thickness of his dick…

but that was not the matter at hand.

donghyuck was known for always being late to everything. and usually it was for a good reason. like forgetting about an important assignment until the very last minute and having to stay home to submit it on time. or getting stuck in traffic. or maybe even finding himself in trouble for running his mouth too much for his own good.

all of them were pretty believable. things no one would ever have an ounce of a doubt could potentially happen.

but this, this right here was something donghyuck could never explain to anybody without them immediately calling him out for trying to bullshit his way out of trouble. even if it was indeed real, no one would believe him. ever.

and to be fair, it did sound like the plot of a bad porn movie, one probably titled something along the lines of ‘lucky guy fucks hot roommate’.

considering how big of an attention whore you were, he wouldn’t be surprised if you had your own only fans account and were seeking a helping hand. his hand.

“don’t you wanna fuck me, hyuck?”

if donghyuck wasn’t taken aback by your attitude before, he had to physically take a step back this time, jaw almost hitting the floor.

“why are you so horny all of a sudden?”

“wouldn’t you also feel horny if you had to constantly sit through your roommate getting off in the other room?”

donghyuck felt like a bucket of cold water was tossed over his head, and he couldn’t help the way his heart dropped to his feet. you could see him scrambling to think of something to say.

poor boy looked like he was caught committing a crime.

how adorable.

“okay, well, i’m sorry. i have needs, y’know? unfortunately i can’t control when my dick decides to get hard-.”

“i know you jerk off to the thought of me,” you interrupted abruptly, staring at him with a dangerous glint in your eyes. “i’ve heard you before.”

the blood instantly drained from donghyuck’s face. he suddenly felt lightheaded, having to lean against your door in case he fainted.

how did you even find out?

sure, he knew the walls were thin and not exactly soundproof. and yeah, your rooms were right next to each other, separated only by one of those thin walls he often joked about being made out of cardboard. but he always waited until you were out of the apartment to enjoy his much needed self care time. and he swore he was always quiet. as quiet as one can be when beating your meat to the thought of your sexy roommate.

“what are you-.”

“why don’t you just come fuck me instead of using your own hand?” you sounded as if you were offering him to wash the dishes, way too casual for the situation at hand. “i bet it doesn’t feel the same.”

donghyuck didn’t know what was going on. everything was moving too fast for his poor brain –rotten due to all the hours he had spent masturbating to hentai porn– to keep up, visibly struggling to process the situation.

“fuck, you can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to react.”

the thing is, that was exactly what you wanted. for him to lose his shit and fuck you into next week. shove his dick in your pussy without even bother to let you adjust to the stretch and take you to pound town for the next five hours.

“i’m not joking, hyuck. i meant what i said.”

someone pinch me, he thought.

was this a new way you discovered to toy with him? because if it was, then it was so fucked up.

“fine. i’ll call jeno over then,” you shrugged, reaching out for your phone at his lack of response. “i’m sure he wouldn’t mind sticking his big dick in my tight little pussy.”

your words hit donghyuck like a fucking truck. his jaw almost dislocated from how wide his mouth flew open, the tips of his ears turning a rosy color at the prospect of his friend. in bed. with you. fucking his huge dick –because everyone knew he was packing– into your needy hole. having you cream all over his cock, holding onto his strong arms as you cry out his name.

just the thought of your fucked out expression and loud whines had him salivating in his mouth.

donghyuck and jeno had been friends since forever, which meant he knew for a fact that his best friend would ditch him in a heartbeat if you did as much as look at him the way you were currently looking at your roommate.

“c’mon hyuck, i know you’re dying to touch me.”

the boy in front of you visibly struggled to keep himself together when one of your hands traveled down your body to rub yourself through the thin material of your pajama shorts. his knees felt weak, ears burning at the sound of your sweet moans.

“i need you.”

your words replayed in his head like a broken record. you said you needed him. not jeno. not anyone else. him. as in donghyuck. your roommate for the past year.

as much as he did want to touch you, feel every curve of your body, he was also scared you were just messing with him. he was scared that finally giving in to his desires would just embarrass him and ruin his almost nonexistent chance with you.

god, donghyuck liked you so much. his little crush on you had already become annoying the moment he realized it even existed.

you were the biggest tease he had ever met. and that says a lot coming from the lee donghyuck himself. you were always playfully flirting with him whenever you felt like it. or felt like giving him a hard time. and he could see it in your face you enjoyed every second of seeing him struggle to respond.

“i-i,” he gulped with difficulty, mouth dry as a desert. “i can’t.”

you watched the slim boy waddle his way out of your room. and you would’ve missed the tent growing in his shorts if he hadn’t almost tripped over his own feet and fallen next to you on your bed.

for around ten minutes, you remained frozen in place, figuring out how to get your roommate to break and give into his –and your– desires.

this was the closest you had gotten to crossing the line separating an innocent friendship –if you could call it that– between roommates from something more. something you both wanted but knew he was far too scared to try and make happen.

and how were you so sure about his feelings for you?

easy.

the boy wore his heart on his sleeve.

anyone could tell how enamored he was with you. how he visibly perked up whenever you were around. the way his cheeks would turn an adorable shade of red and his eyes alternate between staring at the floor, daydreaming about you, and sending heart eyes your way.

it had even become an ongoing joke within your own friend group. no one could –or wanted to– stop teasing you about his seemingly undying love for you.

“c’mon, just look at him,” chaewon once pointed out in the middle of the library, elbowing you while whisper-shouting, “he follows you around like a lovesick puppy. even to the library!”

as much as you wanted to shush her, she was right.

before he moved into your now shared apartment, he would remain at least a 100 miles radius from the library. it was as if he was allergic to knowledge, his handful of brain cells immediately going out of service at the smell of old books.

now, once you joined the picture, it was as if a switch was flicked. he became a regular at the campus library all of a sudden, so much so that even the old librarian tending the front desk knew him by name.

the end might be near, you thought when you first saw him sitting in a corner of the library, a variety of books sprawled across the table as he pretended to understand the book in his hands on quantum physics. you knew, of course, he didn’t. the boy was so busy looking around the building for something –or rather someone– to notice the book he was holding was upside down.

his blatant attempts at getting closer to you weren’t a complete fail though, as they had your heart skipping a beat every time you thought about the messy boy on the other side of your bedroom wall.

but before even thinking about how boyfriend material he was when he wasn’t trying to piss you off, you first wanted to test the waters. get a sneak peek at what dating donghyuck would look like without actually committing to it just yet.

and the only way you could think of to do so without forcing yourself into a vulnerable position and directly confessing was by fucking your roommate.

after taking a run for it out of your room, donghyuck decided he would have to do without his lucky shirt during this gaming session. hopefully only tonight. he knew the guys would not leave him alone if he was the reason for another loss, especially after boasting so much about his abilities the last time they played together.

sitting on his gamer chair, still shaken by the interaction, he ran his fingers through his hair to clear his reeling mind. he needed to forget about what had just happened in the other room and focus on the task at hand: winning rounds in pubg.

soon, donghyuck was able to immerse himself in the game, all thoughts about you drowning at the loud sound of firearms and the screams of his friends coming from his headset. so far he had been able to take down roughly a dozen other players, carrying the highest streak among his friends much to his delight.

however, the calm before the storm didn’t last long.

the boy tensed up, fingers stuttering over his gamer keyboard when you rested your warm cheek right next to the still noticeable bulge in his basketball shorts. instinctively, his legs parted to give you space to position yourself between them.

he hadn’t even noticed the moment when you had slipped into his room and quietly crawled under his desk, too deep into the game to sense the movement.

donghyuck would be lying if he said he had never thought about you on your knees for him before. so many, almost too many times. he wasn’t going to let this opportunity slide.

willing his heart to slow down a bit, he peered down at you. you looked so unbelievably beautiful with your long eyelashes fluttering delicately as you stared up at him, big eyes locked on his.

“keep playing,” your hot breath against his inner thigh had the hairs in his neck standing up.

he hadn’t even realized when exactly he had stopped playing, too busy engraving the visual in front of him in his head.

gulping with some difficulty, donghyuck did as he was told. usually it came easy for him to submerge himself in the game, tuning out everything but the loud voices of his friends.

“you’re so hard, hyuckie,” you snickered, licking your lips as your finger trailed the outline of his painfully hard cock with a feather-like touch that caused him to shiver. “is it all for me?”

he pursed his lips tightly and simply bobbed his head yes, afraid of his friends catching onto what was going on on his end of the call.

satisfied, you let yourself cop a feel of his length. your hand palmed him over his pants, squeezing around the sensitive head every so often. even through the material of his shorts you could feel the precum leaking out of his tip.

the view in front of you had you desperately rubbing your thighs together, thickened clit throbbing in excitement.

his silky hair, usually styled, was now messily framing his pretty face in the most beautiful way possible. his dark eyes were rolled back, slender fingers curling into fists as his hips raised from the chair, sloppily humping your hand. he looked fucked out already with sweat already dripping down his temple.

what a man.

“dude, what’s up with you? you sound like you just ran a marathon,” mark’s voice had donghyuck squirming in his seat, heart almost beating out of his chest. “are you alright?”

the boy’s head snapped to look at the screen in front of him, neck almost breaking from the aggressiveness of the movement.

“speak up,” you hissed through gritted teeth, tightening your fingers around the base of his cock.

his hips stuttered, hands holding on the edge of his desk as he swallowed the frustrated groan threatening to escape his lips. he heaved a shaky breath, summoning all his self control to not bust his load right then and there.

“i-i’m fine,” his voice sounded strained, as if he was struggling to make a sound. or more like to not make a sound. “shouldn’t have had taco bell for lunch.”

you could see the boy holding his breath, terrified his friends would see right through his weak excuse of a lie. and a sigh of relief almost slipped past his lips when they only hummed, quickly going back to their previous conversation, not very interested in digging into the cause of his unusual behaviour any deeper.

meanwhile, the pretty little devil between his legs got to work, releasing his dick by harshly pulling down his shorts. you blew air at the sensitive tip, making him shudder at the sensation. but it wasn’t until you placed a peck to his slit, fingers going to hold him at the base, pumping your fist up and down, when the boy gave into his primal desires.

“guys, gotta go,” donghyuck interrupted the conversation less than five minutes later, hurriedly clicking off the game and moving to end the call.

“what-,” renjun protested immediately, sounding nothing less than annoyed, and donghyuck was sure he would be getting nagged next time he saw his friend. “we’re in the middle of a round and getting our asses kicked because of you, you can’t just dip now!”

“i’m sorry,” was all he mumbled before turning off his computer.

donghyuck didn’t even bother taking off his headphones, opting for simply letting it hang around his neck. he was too close, too desperate for release to worry about getting sweat all over the –new and very expensive– device –that he had just acquired not even a week ago after months of hard work–.

he could feel how hot his face was, sticky skin burning under the intense heat of your gaze. the smug smirk that adorned your pretty face had his body on fire, a combination of embarrassment and need making his cock twitch uncontrollably.

being able to see the power you had over the lee donghyuck had you almost shaking with excitement, adrenaline pumping through your veins and leaving you out of breath. you would be lying if you said you had never thought about this, having him all to yourself, at your disposal, ready to take anything you gave him.

your hand never stopped moving up and down his length, giving kitten licks to the swollen tip of his cock.

he wanted to scream and smash his head against the desk, desperation clawing at his throat. he knew you were trying to break him, to make him beg for it, to fully give in to you.

the idea of pleading for your touch, for you to engulf his hard cock with that sweet little mouth of yours had his jaw clenching.

but fuck… he really wanted, no, needed more. to watch you gag as he fucked your throat, tears escaping the corner of your eyes at the discomfort. he wanted your soft hands gripping his strong thighs to hold yourself together, a mix of saliva and his precum making the lower half of your face glisten under the light of his screen.

“i,” he struggled to speak up, voice trembling from the intense pleasure. “i’m close.”

“i can see that,” you smirked, twirling your tongue around the head before gently poking his slit with the tip of your tongue.

“please, i need more.”

donghyuck finally broke, babbling incoherent words, urging you to fully take him in.

fortunately for him, you immediately obliged, pushing your head down until the tip of your nose hit his neatly trimmed pelvis. he really thought some more begging was going to be necessary for you to give him what he wanted.

“fuck, yeah. just like that,” the sigh of relief he let out quickly turned into a loud moan when you swallowed around him, nails digging into the skin of his thighs.

his orgasm hit him like a wrecking ball. his entire body began trembling, hands shooting to hold your head down –as if you were planning on pulling away–, fingers threading through your hair for a better grip. spurts of hot, salty cum painting the walls of your throat, and you eagerly swallowed everything he gave you.

the sound of his heavy breaths filled the dimly lit room, his body still trembling from the mind-blowing orgasm that had just rocked his world.

you pushed his gamer chair back by his thighs, climbing onto his lap with a satisfied hum. you allowed him some rest, aware of his shaky legs, and instead focused your attention on the tan skin of his neck. you placed a tentative lick right under his jaw, slowly moving down the expanse of his throat. the feeling had the boy’s adam’s apple bobbing aggressively, your fingers going to play with the hem of his shirt before pulling the fabric over his head and tossing it somewhere in the room.

once he stopped feeling like his legs were going to give up on him, donghyuck stood up from his place on the chair making you yelp in surprise, strong arms holding you against him. he then sat at the edge of his bed, head resting on your shoulder.

“i wanna taste you,” donghyuck pleaded, reaching for your waist to pull you closer. “please, sit on my face.”

you instantly nodded, quickly removing your pajama shorts, body tingling with anticipation as you pressed your palm flat on his chest to push him onto his back. he complied, not a single complaint coming out of his mouth at your display of dominance.

donghyuck swiped his tongue over his pretty lips, wetting them and leaving them glistening with spit as he patiently waited for your next move.

“so eager,” you teased, a smug grin on your face.

“stop playing and hurry up,” the boy whined, lifting himself from his place, holding himself up with the help of his forearms.

his eyes were barely open, pupils blown out. he looked so hot, laying shirtless on his messy bed. all hard and wet, ready for you to drop your panties and sit on his dick.

and oh how bad you wanted to sit on it.

swinging your leg over his body, you positioned yourself so your dripping pussy was hovering right over his mouth. you immediately felt his large hands grip at your ass, forcing you down to finally sit on his face.

“thank you,” you could clearly feel his lips moving against your panty-clad core, the breathy sound of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “god, thank you so much.”

you didn’t even get to laugh at him, or tease him about how desperate he looked sucking your juices off of your panties. all that died on your tongue when he used two fingers to push the crotch of your underwear out of the way and immediately latched his mouth to your pussy.

“look at you, what a messy munch, eating me out like your life depends on it,” you teased, biting your lip when you felt his tongue poke at your gaping hole, caressing your insides.

the dirty words coming out of your mouth had donghyuck physically shaking under your weight, urging him to keep going. he wanted nothing more than to see you cum, have your hips sloppily rocking into his pretty lips and leaving the evidence of your arousal all over his face.

“fuck, hyuck. just like that,” you sighed contently, harshly grinding against his mouth. “you’re such a good boy.”

donghyuck hummed appreciatively, relishing at the praise, eyes falling shut and hands reaching for your thighs, massaging the soft flesh.

he loved the attention you were giving him, and he let you know just how proud of himself he was when one of his palms slammed against your ass cheek before nipping at your clit, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

it all happened so fast that your orgasm caught you completely off guard. you didn’t even have time to flinch at the stinging on your backside, the knot in your stomach suddenly snapping, and you melted into a puddle. your trembling thighs clamped around donghyuck’s head, your entire upper body folding forward, struggling not to collapse on top of the boy under you.

you must have blacked out for a second there, and once you regained consciousness you were left in a breathless, sweaty mess.

“shit, that was so fucking hot,” donghyuck mumbled, sounding breathless as he stared down at his body with hooded eyes, snapping you out of your daze. “when were you going to tell me you could squirt?”

“i can’t-,” you choked on a loud gasp when you saw his now glistening chest.

your cum had sprinkled all over the place, some of it even reaching his naked thighs. embarrassment washed over your face, making your cheeks heat up.

“this is so much better than what i had hoped for, fuck.”

his pretty cock stood tall, in all its glory once again, hard and leaking, twitching every time his eyes travelled back to the mess you made.

swallowing your embarrassment, you moved to straddle your roommate’s hips, teasing your wet pussy over his hard cock. but before you could fuck yourself with it, donghyuck’s arms wrapped around you before flipping you both on your side.

“what are you doing,” you scowled, a pout on your swollen lips. “i was about to ride you!”

“as sexy as that sounds, we can do that later.”

“but-.”

“just, let me, okay?” his voice sounded so soft, so soothing you couldn't find it in you to fight with him as you usually would. “do you trust me?”

“what? what are you gonna do?”

“answer me, please.”

donghyuck’s soft voice and tender gaze made a wave of warmth spread throughout your body, a fuzzy feeling settling into your chest.

“i do.”

one of his hands grabbed your leg, bringing it to rest over his hip before positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. donghyuck smashed his mouth against yours, swallowing the small whimper that fell from your lips when he teased your clit.

“hyuck, put it in already,” you whined, clenching around nothing at the friction.

and how could he say no when you sounded so desperate to feel him? when he had been waiting for this moment for so long?

nodding, he did as you wished, pushing his hips into yours. his thick cock stretched your pussy wide open with each delicious inch, filling you up in a way you didn’t know you needed. his mouth fell open as your velvety walls enveloped him. your head rolled back, holding onto his arms for support, letting him push himself in further, deeper.

it felt like heaven. your bodies fitting perfectly against each other, as if you were both made for the other; just like puzzle pieces.

low groans left his chest at the sound of your tiny mewls, enjoying the burning sensation of your nails digging into the flesh of his arms.

donghyuck liked the way you said his name, how you called out to him with pretty eyelashes decorating those big eyes of yours as you looked at him. he liked the frustration and raw desire swimming in your eyes, and the way it made your lips form into a pout and your eyebrows scrunch together.

“move, hyuck,” you pleaded, attempting to grind your hips into his. “please.”

a scream was forced out of your throat as donghyuck immediately began slamming his throbbing cock inside of you. your whole body trembled in his arms as the bulbous head hit your g-spot, and almost as if he had just pressed a button, your mind went blank.

“t-there, fuck, oh my g-god.”

the distant look in your eyes, lips parted into a silent moan, drool threatening to drip down the corner of your mouth, let him know just how good he was making you feel. his chest swelled with pride, a newfound passion taking over him and turning his thrusts into deep, precise strokes that had you reaching heaven.

“feels good? this is what you wanted, right? to have my dick fucking you full?” donhyuck grunted, repositioning you on your back and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. he could feel himself throbbing wildly inside of you, warning him about his up and coming high.

“yes,” you gasped, legs tightening around his waist in an effort to bring him closer.

you would be telling the truth if you said you had never gotten railed like this before. who would’ve guessed the hentai-crazed dork next door would be so good at fucking you dumb? if it weren’t for his now obvious experience in the matter at hand you would’ve confidently assumed he had never been touched by a woman.

oh how wrong you were.

“i’ve dreamed about this for the longest time,” the boy confessed, “every time you walked around the place, wearing only a large shirt and panties, ass in full display, i had to lock myself in this room to fuck my first, wishing it was you instead.”

donghyuck could feel your walls clamping down on his cock like a vice at the weight of his confession. with your orgasms quickly approaching, he propped your calves on his strong shoulders to reach even deeper, lips going to kiss your breasts and nibble on your nipples.

“i can tell how much you like to be treated like the dirty slut you are,” he groaned against your chest, feeling his vision blur. “you’re fucking dripping all over me, creaming my cock.”

“h-hyuck,” your body began convulsing under him, about to tip over the edge.

“cum for me, y/n, let me see how pretty you look falling apart on my dick.”

and that was all you needed to hear before a wave of overwhelming pleasure washed over your entire body, calves squeezing donghyuck’s head from the intensity of your orgasm.

before you were able to fully ride your high, donghyuck pulled out, drawing whines out of you at the emptiness he left behind. ignoring your complaints, he shoved your legs together, shoving his cock between your plush thighs as he picked up his pace once again.

“fuck, i’m almost there,” he moaned, breathless.

and you couldn’t help but do the same as you stared at his face, eyes struggling to stay open as he chased his high like a rabid dog, using your body for his pleasure.

it didn’t take more than three harsh thrusts before he was spilling his essence all over your lower stomach and thighs with a pornographic moan.

releasing his hold on your legs to let them fall back in place, he collapsed on top of you, almost crushing you with his body, completely spent.

fortunately –or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it–, donghyuck was unable to successfully commit homicide. and after showering together and going for another round, each of you went back to your respective rooms, moving on like nothing happened.

just like that, your lives quickly fell back in place and normality took over once again.

or so you thought.

“hyuck, have you seen my pink panti-.”

you audibly gasped when you saw the pink lace panties you were searching for discarded on your roommate’s bed, a huge cum stain you were sure was not there the last time you saw them messily smeared on the crotch.

“what the fuck?”

“oh, yeah, i saw them in the dryer the other day and thought they looked too pretty not to jerk off to them,” the boy shrugged from his place in front of his large monitor, not even bothering to look at you. “honestly, you should invest in satin thongs, i think they’d look hot as fuck.”

“you little thief! i’ve been looking for them for days!”

“need i remind you that sharing is caring?” you huffed, a scowl on your face. “what do you need them for anyway?”

“to go out with chaewon, obviously?” you scoffed, annoyed.

he finally turned to look at you, eyebrows scrunched up and a dark look in his eyes. “so? were you planning on showing them to her or what?”

the growing annoyance in his tone left you scrambling for an answer, equally parts surprised and turned on by the hint of possessiveness in his voice.

“so what if i was?” you challenged, arms crossed in defiance.

you barely got time to react when his chair suddenly swirled around, donghyuck’s full attention now set on you.

“only i am allowed to see you in them, so you better behave.”

–lia:)

#nct smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #haechan smut #lee haechan smut #nct x reader smut #lee donghyuck smut #nct donghyuck smut #nct dream haechan smut #nct haechan smut #nct 127 haechan smut #nct 127 smut #nct u smut

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poisonofthepaint · 12 days ago

Text

why are you up here?

a story told through cigarettes and suicidal tendencies. you and jack spend the time trying to talk each other down from the roof, until the fourth of july, when neither of you can get up there.

cw: widower!jack, reader has a dead best friend, jack calls reader kid, age gap, kissing, probably not accurate information on how the military works, that's really it but this is probably the most emotional thing i've written in a while lol so beware. uhhh also cigarette smoking, duh. Also. not really proofread so i'm sorry

wc: 4.6k

The first time you meet Abbot on the roof, it’s you who’s on the ledge. It’s the first chilly day of the year. Mid-September, the scorching summer finally seems to come to a halt. Your legs dangle off the building, your back is pressed against the concrete floor. Your stethoscope hangs above your head on the bar that’s supposed to prevent situations like this. The door opens and closes. You close your eyes and listen to his steady gait walk towards you. The sound echoes off the concrete.

“You’re gonna give me a fucking heart attack, kid.” You don’t answer him, or look at him. Your hand reaches up and lightly bats the medical instrument. You watch it swing back and forth. “Why are you up here?”

“I don’t know, my attending always comes up here, figured I’d see what all the rave is about.”

He scoffs at you, “Right, I usually do it at the end of my shift though. You’re on hour two. And I’ve never once laid down. I mean, really, this is strange.”

“I’m tired.” You state plainly, still not moving, except for the hand that’s batting at the rope.

“Okay, you’ve gotta stand up, it’s scaring me.”

“I don’t know if I care.”

You’ve never been this nonchalant; this detached. That’s how Abbot knows something is wrong. Yes, you lost a patient, but he’s never seen it hit you so hard that you had to come up to the roof about it. He doesn’t know what to make of it. He thinks back, and tries to figure out why it would affect you this badly, but then he realizes, he actually doesn’t know anything about you. Sure, he knows where you went to medical school, and he knows that you’re funny, and you dislike bedside manner. You love stabilizing gunshot victims, your favorite restaurant is a Mexican joint that will give you a free margarita after you’ve had your second. He knows you have a shitty ex that wrote a rap song about you. And he knows you can calm an irrational patient down in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t know anything about your past. Before medical school is a mystery to him.

He says your name in a gentle tone, you finally glance at him. “Listen, we can talk if you want. You know I’ll listen. Or, we can sit up here, in dead silence, but you have to come back from the ledge.”

You oblige, with a huge sigh, and scoot yourself back behind the bar. You still sit, but upright now. You feel like an animal locked in a cage.

“You know you did everything, right?”

“It was the same.” You say, “It was the same as Molly.”

Abbot nods, like he knows. He’s scared you’ll run if he asks for more information, but from your few words he can gather enough.

“I brought Molly to an ED just like this. They did everything they could too. But the wound was too severe. She was too out of it. She wasn’t a good student, hell, neither was I. But she had a fucking future, you know? Like, she deserved to at least try. But that fucking asshole ruined it all.”

He thinks back to that patient. Her dark hair, mangled. The deep cut on the side of her body, abdomen slashed. Abbot thinks about the girl’s blue eyes, how they went back and forth between the back of her head and staring directly at the light.

“Molly was in a car with some guy she was seeing. She liked him, he gave her all the shit for free, but one night, he got really high, and he and Molly were driving around for fun. But he went into a tree, and he died on impact. Molly had a stab wound from the windshield glass. She was scared of getting arrested, so she called me. I had to pull her out of the car, and by the time I got there, she was too out of it to fight about going to the hospital.”

Abbot soaks in your words, prepares himself for what you’re going to say next. He never stops staring at you. He still stands, hands in his pockets. He focuses on the top of your head. He notes how you shake it lightly every time you say Molly’s name. Like even the mere acknowledgment of it brings up images. He knows how it feels, he has a few names like that.

“I parked in the ambulance bay, and ran her inside. I held her hand while she bled out on the table.”

You take a deep breath and look back at him, wondering if you’re just talking to yourself. Abbot pulls something out of his pocket, a pack of Marlboro blacks. You scoff, and he smiles when he sees a smirk come to your face.

“You smoke old man cigarettes.”

“Sorry, I don’t have your princess ones.”

You take the cigarette and the lighter from him, flicking it a few times before it finally lights. You take a deep inhale, letting the smoke fill your lungs.

“They had stabilized the wound, at least a little bit, but then they started their neuro tests. No eye reaction to cold water. Pupils blown. She was fucking braindead. They said she must’ve hit her head when the car crashed. She didn’t have any family. She was an aged out foster kid. I was her emergency contact. I had to choose. I had to tell them to pull the plug— to stop. I know no one could’ve saved her, or made her not get in that car. But I still hate it.” You take another deep pull of the stick, the wind blows, and the smoke burns your eyes.

You stand now, still smoking. You take another drag before offering it to Abbot. He takes it from your hand, taking his own pull. You note how he holds it, held between pointer and thumb, other fingers floating above it.

He nods his head, “I’ve got a few Molly’s. A few cases that hit too close. I wish I had something I could say.”

You know he’s right. There’s nothing to say.

“It just fucking sucks, man. Like, really bad.” you voice.

Abbot lets out a chuckle, “Yeah, it does.”

There’s no changing her death. There’s no changing that there will be more Molly’s. This you know.

“My first day back to work after my wife died, I got a patient that looked like her, or maybe I was projecting on the first woman with red hair I saw come in.” You glance at him, you didn’t even know he was a widower. You must have started after it happened.

“It took Robby and Dana to talk me down from here. Honestly, I was mostly scared shitless that Dana was gonna kill me for making her walk up twelve flights of stairs.” He shakes his head, and locks eyes with you, offering you the cigarette back. You take it gladly, quickly putting it back between your lips.

“It doesn’t get any easier, but you realize that they don’t want you to join them, wherever they are. Molly wants you here, and I’m sure she knows that you did all you could for her. And you did all you could for that girl in there.”

You nod along to what he’s saying, and stub the cigarette out on the bottom of your shoe.

“You ready to get back to it? I know it won’t go away, but I’ll deal with the girl’s family, okay? Sit this one out. You can take the foot fungus in central fifteen.”

You laugh, a loud one, and Abbot thinks to himself, finally, there’s that noise I’ve been waiting to hear.

“Fuck you, and your foot fungus.”

He ticks his head towards the door, and you head in behind him.

The next time you’re led to the roof, it’s snowing. A cold day in February, the month that drags forever. This time, Jack stands at the ledge, no coat, no gloves. Just standing. You’re thankful he at least wore a long sleeve under his scrub shirt today.

“You need your hands to work in the ED.” you say, plainly.

It was only a few months back that he was talking you down, and since then, you’ve grown closer together. Sure, you two were always friends. But after telling him about Molly, it was like something shifted. You loved to mess around with him when you could. And he seemed to really take a liking to you after your stint. He always dragged you onto cases with him, ignoring the efforts of Shen to be the one to teach you something. It was nice, it felt like having a friend, even if you only saw each other in the hospital.

“Why are you up here?” Jack asks, not turning around.

“I brought you a present. But, you can only have it if you put on these gloves.”

Jack turns half-heartedly, and you wave a pack of cigarettes in front of him, like it’s a toy.

“You call yellow American Spirits a present?”

You scoff, “Fine, I’ll smoke one. Asshole.”

And you do. You take one out of the pack, and light it, taking a deep drag. “I’m sorry that she had red hair.” you say softly.

It’s the only detail you knew about his wife. The only thing he dared to share with you about her.

The woman you spent the last hour coding had bright red hair that laid on the table like a cruel joke. It was all spread out, and it looked brushed, even though she had been in the ED, awaiting an ICU bed for three days. She had liver failure, and it had finally given out. Even when you were operating on her, everyone in the room knew that the only thing that would fix her would be a new liver, but you still tried; she didn’t have a DNR.

Jack reaches a hand back from the ledge, asking for the lit cigarette.

“Gloves,” you say.

“No,” he replies firmly.

“Well,” you sigh, “I tried.” you say, handing him the lit cigarette.

You walk closer to the ledge. Of course, he’s in front of the bar, looking around. You don’t pressure him to talk, just stand with him patiently, like he did for you.

“My wife, Camille, died at home, in bed with me. I woke up one day, and she was just gone. Couldn’t get her up. They said her heart just stopped beating. Sudden cardiac arrest. Her hair was laid out just like that patient’s. I did CPR for twenty minutes straight. They had to pull me off her.”

You swallow and it’s thick. The cold temperature makes your nose run. He offers you the cigarette back.

“No, keep it.” you reach back in your pocket, fetching your own.

“Camille was the best. I met her right before I enlisted. I had done two years of college, and it just wasn’t really for me. I was studying sports medicine, and I hated it. An enlister talked me into it, told me that I could do real medicine on the field, and I liked that idea. I’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

You nod, the storyline connecting in your head.

“Camille wrote me letters every week, called me on the phone whenever I could talk. I loved her so much, I proposed in a letter, and we got married after I was done with basic.”

“Damn, surprised you didn’t scare her away.” Jack scoffs and shakes his head at you. It was normal for you two to make offhanded, dry jokes at each other. He knows you mean no harm.

“She stayed with me through it all. Through the war, and the trauma, and the fucking amputation. She took care of me when I didn’t want her to. When I begged her to leave me so she could have a normal life, and not be stuck with some guy who has to wear a prosthetic. But she loved me, and, man, I loved the shit out of her.”

He took a drag of the cigarette, and shook his head at the sirens coming down the street. He finally turns the way you’re standing. You have your one arm crossed, tucked into the warmth of your side. The other hand holds the cigarette steady by your mouth. You can feel the snow melting in your hair, and you know you’ll be a bit damp when you go back in.

He finally locks eyes with you, “And then, when everything seemed normal, I had gotten into a good place here, she worked from home, so I got to spend the days with her. She just died. Just like that. In bed, with her hair sprawled out on the pillow.”

You nod, like you understand the ache of losing a spouse, even though you don’t. Camille was probably like fifteen Molly’s for him, you realize.

“I would ask you to come back from the ledge, but after that, man, I don’t know.”

Jack laughs again, and you smile at him, brightly, thinking maybe your shining smile will convince him to come with you.

“I was told once, though, that they would want me here, doing what I do best.” Jack looks down, a rare break of eye contact from him. “Jack, Camille would want you here. She would want you to stay saving people. She doesn’t want you to meet her again, not yet.”

“Yeah, I know.” He says, still looking at the ground. “Someone told me though, that it still fucking sucks.”

You laugh, and he peers at you through his eyelashes. Finally, he swoops under the bars, coming to where you're standing. The cigarettes are long abandoned on the ground, snow covering them softly.

“Thank you,” Jack says, and you’re a bit taken aback.

Usually, he would end something like this with a joke, but he seems like he actually seems grateful, and that scares you even more. You wonder if today was the day he might’ve done it. And you thank God that you stood in the gas station line to buy a fresh pack yesterday.

“Sure, whenever.” You say, looking up at him, squinting a bit in the snow. “You know, I think Myrna was saying something about needing to use the bathroom, if you want something easy.”

He scoffs at you, and lets out a small chuckle, “There is nothing easy about that woman.”

You lead him back inside, and you have to admit, you’re proud that you can join the club of people who have successfully talked Abbot off the roof.

The next time you both ache to head to the roof, you’re unable to. A scorching hot Fourth of July. No wind, no clouds. The waiting room is filled with people who've been waiting since their 1:00PM barbecues, and the clock has just struck 10:00. Abbot has seen three patients with red hair code. You’ve had three car crashes caused by drugs, and two patients die that looked a little bit like Molly. To say the day was already going bad was an understatement.

You two kept sneaking looks at each other all night. Abbot’s eyes, usually hard and cold, would meet yours with a softness, like he knew what you needed, but also knew he couldn’t provide it. It was way too busy to let you sneak off for a break. This also meant he couldn’t, which led to him being a bit more snappy with the staff.

Jack wasn’t ever mean. Sure, he was firm, and he handed orders out like he was still running a combat zone, but you knew he meant no harm by it. Tonight, though, Jack was a little bit mean. He had snapped at Ellis after the first redhead coded, basically screaming, “Dammit, Ellis! How many times do I have to tell you that I need to assess every patient!”

He also yelled at Shen about his tendency for bathroom breaks, telling him that no grown man should have that small of a bladder, and that he should seriously get it checked out. Basically, Jack was about two hours away from being summoned to HR.

You had stopped caring after the first Molly-look alike died on your table. You had been silent, avoiding eye contact with all the staff, except Jack. you wanted to tell him to stop screaming, because it wasn’t helping anything, and you knew he’d regret it, but you also felt like it wasn’t your place. You wanted to scream too. If you had the seniority to do it, you probably would be snapping at everyone.

You knew that the Fourth was already a really bad day for Jack. he didn’t enjoy his service being paraded around by people who didn’t understand, he didn’t find the day as celebratory as everyone else seemed to. This was the first time he had worked it in a few years. And of course, he was rewarded by his dead wife haunting him all night long.

Finally, you find a moment to sneak away, having maxed out at five patients, all waiting for labs. You sneak into the break room, sitting in a flimsy plastic chair and throwing your hands on top of your head, suddenly aware of how hot it is in the ED. Since the department was kept so cold, it never really got hot, but it was way hotter than usual, maybe even at 70 degrees, you guessed.

You sit there like that, with your eyes closed, ignoring the chatter outside of the room, and it’s a nice feeling. The tears start to prick behind your eyelids, and you know if they start, you won’t stop, so you quickly think of something else, something happy. The first face to come to mind is Jack, which shocks you.

You think about the case he took with you about a week ago. A young boy, with a broken arm, who couldn’t seem to stop spilling sensitive information about his parents’ marriage to the both of you. He had been brought in by his kindergarten teacher, and she seemed equally humiliated.

While Jack set his broken bone, the kid babbled on. “Yeah, so, my mommy said that she doesn’t really like the man like that but my daddy seems to think she really likes him. My mommy and the man even have photos together on my mommy’s phone.” The kid says, all in one breath.

“Well, mommies can have friends.” Jack had said, trying not to get himself in trouble.

“Yeah, but, mommies and their friends don’t usually have S-E-X! At least, that’s what my daddy says. Wait, what is S-E-X?”

Jack jumped up from where he was sitting, “Dr., why don’t you get that propofol going?”

You gave him a quick salute and grabbed the medicine from the nurse, trying your hardest not to giggle at the awkwardness of the situation.

You feel a little bit better after recalling the memory, a small smile finds its way to your face.

The door creaks open and your eyes open at the noise, it’s Jack standing there, with a grim look on his face.

“Sorry, getting back out, I was waiting on labs.”

“S’fine,” He grumbles, coming to sit next to you.

“So, how are–”

“Don’t,”

You nod your head, and slowly get up from the chair you were sitting in. To your surprise, he puts a hand on your arm, and shoots you a look. You sit back down with him, but don’t dare to look over at his face again. You want to break the ice, but you’re not sure if it’s the right time. You want to just let him wallow, you want to wallow too. You want to smoke a million cigarettes on the roof with him, and not say a single word, because you both just know. That’s how you want to spend the rest of the night.

“You shouldn’t yell at people who don’t know why you’re upset.” you say.

“Maybe they shouldn’t do dumb shit then.” he huffs, a hand wiping over his face.

“They’re not being that dumb, they’re being the usual dumb.”

“So, what, I should only yell at you because you know why I’m upset?”

“You shouldn’t yell at anyone. But, sure, if you need to, yeah, I’ll take it.”

“Hell no. You just want to be punished because you’ve had Molly’s tonight.”

It was still terrifying how well he could read you. He knew that you wanted to be blamed; that you wanted to be told you could’ve done something different, even though you knew it wasn’t true.

“I’m not gonna yell at you, kid. I know you’re itching to get up there as much as me. I yell at those two buffoons because I know after today they won’t think anything of it. You’ll think about it if I yell at you.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I’m not just your boss, like I am to them.”

You swallow hard, because now Jack has said what has gone unsaid for almost a year. That you were more than coworkers. You had never let it run away from you. You never, ever, met outside work. But contained in the walls of PTMC was charged energy that wasn’t appropriate for a boss and his subordinate.

“Jack, I can’t even begin to think about that right now.”

He nods slowly, like he knows he just dropped a bomb when he shouldn’t have. You finally look over at him to meet his hazel eyes that have been boring into your head since the moment he sat down. You give him a small, shaky smile, and stand up.

“I have to go check on patients.”

He nods again; says nothing, lets you leave the room. You close the door behind you and shake your head, trying to get the situation to leave you alone.

After midnight, it finally starts to quiet a little bit. Way less traumas, a lot more normal stuff, meaning you were finally able to thin the herd of the waiting room a bit. King and Langdon weren’t on until 5:00 but they snuck in early, around 3:00, which gave you a bit of slack. You try your hardest not to notice that Mel is obviously wearing Langdon’s shirt, but it’s difficult not to. She shoots you a glance, like she knows you know, and you give her a shrug and then a thumbs up. Mel blushes and hurries away, like she doesn’t want to be seen.

Finally, at 3:30, you make your way up to the roof. All twelve flights, you try to save your tears for the heights, but can’t seem to. When you open the door, you know that your eyes are already red. It doesn’t shock you that Jack is already up there, standing over the bar.

He glances back when the door closes, “I would ask why you’re up here, but I guess I already know.”

You join him over the metal railing, standing right next to him. There’s still no breeze outside, and it’s achingly hot for 3AM. “Yeah, real fucked up night, huh?” you laugh— a lot. To the point that your stomach hurts. And so does he, he slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side, for a quick hug.

You pull a pack out from your pocket, Marlboro reds this time.

“Trying something new?”

“I’m trying to compromise.”

He nods and takes one from you, pulling out his black lighter, that’s so dinged up it looks like he’s had it since the war, by the way. You honestly don’t know what he does to get it so dirty. He hands it over to you, and you light yours, deeply inhaling the first pull.

You two stand there like that for a while, smoking in silence. He doesn’t take his arm off of your shoulder. It’s a nice comfort; the physical affection after a shitty day.

“I can’t believe we still have three more hours.”

He hums, “Should be easier now that King and Frank are here.”

“You know they’re sleeping together, right?”

“Oh, yeah, big time. It’s way funnier to let them think they’re being subtle though.”

You laugh, and choke on the smoke that was halfway into your lungs.

“About what I said earlier, if you don’t feel the same, I get it. I know I’m pretty messed up, and a lot older. I understand.”

“No, I do feel the same. I do. And your age doesn’t deter me. I’m pretty messed up too, if you couldn’t tell. It won’t be easy, which is what I’m worried about. I feel like they always say love should be easy. That it just happens. Which I guess it did.”

“Yeah, it did.”

“I just feel like I’m always fighting. I’m always fighting to do the right thing for myself. It’s like survivor’s guilt, I guess. If everyone I couldn’t save doesn’t get to be happy, why should I? Why should I live a good life, and not suffer?”

“Don’t let yourself go there, don’t. Hey–” Jack grabs your face with his hands and turns you towards him. “What’d I tell you, huh? She’d want you to be happy.”

“Are you gonna let yourself be happy? Are you gonna make everyone else’s shifts bad because a woman comes in with red hair?”

“I’m going to let myself be happy for you. I’ve talked to my therapist about it, he thinks I’m ready, he thinks it’d be good. He thinks you’re good for me.”

He lets his hands relax to your shoulders, so he’s holding you gently. “It’s so scary,” you mumble, close to tears again, “It’s so scary to be happy.”

“We have to, though. We have to.” Jack nods his head at you until you start nodding too. Until he thinks you’ve understood him.

His eyes break away from yours to look down at your lips. He runs his thumb over them, and you let him. You feel like your heart has dropped to your stomach. You forget where you are until a firework goes off in the background, startling you both.

“Jesus, who is still doing fireworks?”

“Probably someone who’s gonna come in with an injury in fifteen minutes.”

He hums again, and ducks under the railing, pulling you with him.

“Before they do, I need to do this.”

As the second firework makes a loud pop in the sky, Jack leans in, his lips finally touching yours. The kiss is soft, like he’s still scared. His hand cradles your face, and his thumb brushes soft strokes on your cheekbone. The fireworks continue in the background, popping and sprinkling down. You feel like they’re going off in your chest. You push yourself impossibly closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He’s steady, rock solid, for the first time since Molly died, you feel like you have somewhere to toss the burden, at least for this minute. You throw the ache off the roof, and let yourself be close to someone again.

The all familiar sound of sirens pulls you two apart. You smile up at him, and he smiles back, no teeth, of course, but a small grin. You know he knows how you’re feeling. You know he feels the same. And, God, it feels good to know.

“Back to it?”

You sigh, “Three more hours.”

Jack’s hand is steady on your lower back the whole twelve flights down.

#jack abbot x reader #jack abbot fanfic #jack abbot imagine #jack abbot x you #jack abbot #the pitt fanfiction

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coriihanniee · 13 days ago

Text

ARE YOU GONNA MARRY, KISS OR KILL ME? ˚₊‧꒰ა ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

۶ৎ ALTERNATIVE : boynextdoor as high school tropes

۶ৎ PAIRING : boynextdoor x f!reader ۶ৎ GENRE(S) : highschool au, fluff, comfort, mutual pining, grumpy x sunshine in Taesan's~ ۶ৎ WARNING(S) : academic burnout in Sungho's, mentions of overworking in Sungho's and Jaehyun's, mild illness in Taesan's ۶ৎ WORD COUNT : 1.0k - 1.3k words / member

۶ৎ A/N : got inspo after seeing a certain tweet on X,,, and I just miss Boynextdoor... (っ- ‸ - ς)

SUNGHO ⋆⑅˚₊

˖➴ PAIRING : class president!sungho x burnout academic!reader

Park Sungho has always had that quiet kind of magnetism, the kind that comes from genuinely caring. You’ve watched him from across classrooms and crowded hallways for months now. The way he remembers people’s names without effort, asks about their sick grandparents like it matters (because it does to him), and somehow makes even the most reserved students feel heard during class discussions.

He's untouchable in the way that good people often are, golden and warm like late afternoon sunlight streaming through classroom windows, which is why you can't quite believe he's sitting across from you in your carefully chosen corner of the library, two cups of coffee steaming between you.

"You know the library closes in an hour, right?" His voice is soft and hesitant, as if he's unsure of his welcome here in your sanctuary of solitude.

You glance up from your chemistry notes, blinking away the blur of exhaustion that's become your constant companion. The numbers and formulas swim on the page like they're underwater. "I know what time it is."

"When's the last time you went home before 8 PM?"

The question settles between you with uncomfortable weight. You honestly can't remember. Home has become nothing more than a place to collapse for a few hours before the cycle begins again, classes, college prep courses, extracurriculars that look good on applications but drain your soul. The pursuit of perfection that everyone expects from you, that you've learned to expect from yourself.

Sungho pushes one of the coffees towards you, his fingers brushing the table near yours. "Vanilla latte. Extra shot, no whip. I noticed you always get that one from the machine by the gym."

The fact that he's noticed, that he's paid attention to something so mundane about you, sends an unexpected flutter through your chest. Park Sungho notices everything about everyone, it's what makes him such a natural leader, so beloved by teachers and students alike. But you never thought his careful attention would extend to you, the girl who sits in the back and keeps her head down.

"Don't you have student council stuff to do?" you ask, wrapping your hands around the warm cup. The vanilla scent is comforting, familiar. "Important presidential duties?"

A soft laugh escapes him, and you're struck by how different he seems here in the quiet library light. Less polished, more human. "Meeting ended an hour ago. We were planning the winter formal, if you must know." He pauses, opening his own textbooks with deliberate slowness. "Besides, I'm worried about you."

The admission hangs in the air between you, honest and vulnerable in a way that makes your heart skip. "I'm fine."

"You fell asleep in calculus yesterday." His voice is gentle, no judgment in it. "Mrs. Kim had to wake you up three times. And you haven't been eating lunch, I've seen you in the library instead, every day this week."

Heat creeps up your neck, embarrassment blooming across your cheeks. You thought no one had seen, thought you'd been invisible in your struggle. "I was just—"

"Exhausted," Sungho finishes. "You're burning yourself out, and I can't just sit back and watch anymore."

The crack in your carefully constructed facade widens at his words. You've been running on caffeine and stubbornness for weeks, pushing yourself harder and harder because that's what's expected. Because perfect grades and perfect applications to perfect colleges are supposed to guarantee a perfect future. Because everyone thinks you have it all figured out.

"I have to keep up," you whisper, and your voice sounds small even to your own ears. "Everyone thinks I'm this perfect student, but I'm barely hanging on. If I slow down, if I let myself slip even a little..."

"The world won't end," Sungho says quietly. "Your worth isn't determined by your GPA."

You look up at him then, and find his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. There's an evident concern shown on his face, and it makes your heart race despite your exhaustion.

"You don't have to be perfect for everyone else," he continues, leaning forward slightly. "And you definitely don't have to be perfect for me."

The words hit deep in your chest, some buried part of you that's been aching to hear them. When did his opinion start mattering so much? When did Park Sungho become more than just the golden boy class president you admired from afar?

"How about this," he says, opening his physics textbook with careful precision. "We study together. I'll make sure you actually take breaks, eat something that isn't from a vending machine, and get out of here at a reasonable time. Consider it my presidential duty to look after my constituents."

There's a teasing note in his voice that makes you smile despite everything. "You don't have to babysit me."

"I'm not babysitting you." Pink colours his cheeks, and he looks younger suddenly, less like the composed leader everyone knows and more like a boy with a crush. "I like spending time with you. Even if it's just sitting here doing homework. Especially if it's sitting here doing homework."

Your heart beats faster in your chest, a flutter of possibility that you've been too tired to acknowledge until now. Park Sungho, who could be anywhere, with anyone, who probably has dozens of people vying for his attention, wants to sit in the quiet library with you, wants to drink coffee, share conversations and study together, with you.

"Okay," you say quietly, and the word feels like stepping off a cliff. "But I'm buying the coffee next time."

His smile is radiant, transforming his entire face. "Deal. Though I should warn you, I take my coffee very seriously. Two sugars, splash of cream, and it has to be from the good machine in the student lounge."

"Noted, Mr. President."

"Just Sungho," he says, he glances at you, then away, as if trying to build the courage in silence. "When it's just us, just call me Sungho."

As he starts explaining a physics concept you've been struggling with, his voice patient and encouraging, you find yourself studying more than just the diagrams he's sketching. The way his brow furrows when he concentrates, how he bites his lip when he's thinking, the gentle way his hand moves across the paper.

"You're not paying attention," he says suddenly, catching you staring.

"Sorry, I—"

"Don't apologize." His smile is soft, almost fond. "I was starting to think you saw right through me."

"Through you?"

"I've been looking for an excuse to talk to you for months," he admits, his honesty catching you off guard. "Every time I'd work up the courage, you'd disappear before I could say anything. The library was the only place I knew I'd find you."

The confession settles over you like a warm blanket, chasing away some of the cold exhaustion that's been your constant companion. "You've been looking for me?"

"Every day." He reaches across the table, his fingers barely brushing yours. "I know you think you have to keep going, but you’re allowed to fall apart too. Let me be there when you do."

For a second, you forget how to breathe.

No one’s ever said that to you. You don't say anything right away. You’re afraid if you do, your voice might crack open too much, so you just nod, acknowledging his words.

"Same time tomorrow?" Sungho asks as you finally pack up your books, the library growing quiet around you.

"Tomorrow," you agree. For the first time in weeks, you're looking forward to something that isn't an exam or an assignment.

You're looking forward to him.

RIWOO ⋆⑅˚₊

˖➴ PAIRING : quiet artist!riwoo x theater kid!reader

Lee Sanghyeok is poetry in motion, even when he thinks no one is watching.

You discover this quite by accident on a Thursday evening when you're rushing back to the theater for your forgotten script. The performing arts wing should be empty by now, all the after-school activities long finished, but as you pass the dance studio, music bleeds through the heavy doors, and you catch a glimpse of movement that steals your breath.

He dances like he's having a conversation with the music itself, every gesture deliberate yet effortless. His hair falls across his forehead as he moves, and there's an ethereal quality to the way he flows from one position to the next, as if gravity affects him differently than the rest of the world. You've seen him around school, of course, the quiet boy who sits in the back of art class, who walks the halls with his head down and his sketchbook clutched close to his chest. But this is like seeing a secret part of his soul.

You shouldn't be watching. But you can't seem to make yourself move, can't tear your eyes away from the graceful arch of his spine, the precise angles of his arms cutting through the air. He's beautiful in the way that demands him to be witnessed, even in solitude.

The music ends, and he comes to a stop in the centre of the room, chest rising and falling with quiet breaths. That's when he sees you through the window, and you watch his eyes widen in what looks like panic.

You should run, perhaps pretend this never happened, let him keep his secret sanctuary. Instead, you find yourself pushing open the studio door, stepping into his world uninvited.

"I'm sorry," you say quickly, holding up your hands in surrender. "I was just—my script—I didn't mean to spy, I just—"

"It's okay." His voice is softer than you expected, barely above a whisper. He reaches for a towel draped over the barre, not quite meeting your eyes. "I thought everyone had gone home."

"That was..." You struggle for words that won't sound empty or inadequate. "You're incredible."

Pink blooms across his cheeks, and he ducks his head in that shy way you've noticed in class. "It's nothing special. Just how I unwind."

"Nothing special?" You can't keep the disbelief out of your voice. "Sanghyeok, that was—it was like watching art come alive."

He glances up at you, vulnerability flickering in his dark eyes. "You know my name."

The question catches you off guard. "Of course I know your name. We've had classes together since sophomore year."

"You never..." He trails off, shaking his head. "Most people don't really see me."

There's heartbreak in the way he says it, as if invisibility is just another part of his daily routine. You want to tell him that he's wrong, that people are just too intimidated by his quiet intensity to approach. That half the girls in your grade have whispered about his mysterious appeal, wondered what it would be like to be noticed by Lee Sanghyeok.

"Well, I've always seen you," you say instead, and the words come out more earnest than you intended.

He musters up the courage to look at you in the eyes, and you feel the air between you shift. The studio suddenly feels smaller, more intimate, filled with possibilities you hadn't considered before this moment.

"What were you working on?" you ask, partly to break the tension and partly because you genuinely want to know. "The dance—is it for a specific performance?"

"Just... expressing what I couldn't put into words." He gestures vaguely at the mirror. "Movement says what words can't."

You understand that feeling more than he knows. It's why you act, why you lose yourself in characters and scripts and the magic of becoming someone else for a few hours. "I get that. That's what theater is for me, finding ways to say the things that are too big for regular conversation."

Recognition sparks in his eyes, a shared understanding passing between you. "You're in the drama program."

"Guilty. Though I'm probably not very good at it." You laugh, suddenly self-conscious. "I saw you at our last production. You were there opening night, sitting in the back row."

"You noticed me in the audience?"

"I notice you everywhere," you admit, and immediately want to take it back. However, Sanghyeok doesn't look uncomfortable, if anything, he seems surprised, pleased even.

"I wanted to tell you afterwards that you were amazing," he says quietly. "But I didn't know how to approach you. You always seem so confident on stage, so sure of yourself."

"That's just acting," you tell him with a rueful smile. "Real me is significantly less put-together."

"I doubt that." He takes a step closer, close enough that you can see the fine sheen of sweat on his skin, smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with exertion. "You want to try dancing?"

"Try what?"

"Dancing. With me." He extends a hand, palm up, waiting. "If you want. You don't have to—"

"Yes." The word comes out before you can second-guess yourself. "I mean, I'm not very good—"

"Neither was I when I started." His smile is small but genuine as you place your hand in his. "Just follow my lead."

He starts the music again. His hand settles on your waist, warm even through your sweater, and you try not to think about how perfectly you seem to fit together.

"Just feel the music," he murmurs, close enough that his breath tickles your ear. "Don't think about the steps. Just move."

It should be awkward, you've never been much of a dancer, more comfortable with scripted movements and blocked staging. But there's a quality to the way he guides you that makes it feel natural. When you stumble, he steadies you with gentle hands. When you get self-conscious, he distracts you with observations about rhythm and flow that make you forget to be nervous.

"See?" he says as the song winds down, and you realize you've been moving together without conscious thought, following the music and each other in equal measure. "You're a natural."

You're standing closer than you started, his hands still on your waist and yours having found their way to his shoulders. The studio is quiet except for your slightly uneven breathing, and you can see yourself reflected in his dark eyes.

"This is nice," you whisper, not wanting to break whatever spell has settled over you both.

"Yeah," he agrees, voice barely audible. "Really nice."

"Could we..." You bite your lip, suddenly nervous. "Could we do this again? I mean, if you don't mind sharing your space. I know this is your sanctuary—"

"I'd like that." He smiles, the kind that transforms his entire face, makes him look less mysterious and more like a boy your age who's just been asked on a date.

As you finally step apart, gathering your forgotten script and preparing to leave him to his private world, you can't help but feel like the foundation of your reality has shifted. Like you've been let into a secret world that few people ever get to see.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Sanghyeok asks as you reach the door, and there's hope in his voice that makes your heart skip.

"Tomorrow," you confirm, and you're already counting the hours until you can watch him dance again, until you can be part of his quiet magic once more.

Lee Sanghyeok has shown you a new way of expressing what words cannot capture, and you think you're falling for both the art and the artist.

JAEHYUN ⋆⑅˚₊

˖➴ PAIRING : energetic senior!jaehyun x chaotic junior!reader

The first time Myung Jaehyun and you interacted, you were arguing with a folding table.

Not just struggling with it, actively engaged in what appeared to be a heated philosophical debate about its structural integrity while half the student council watched in fascination. You'd arrived twenty minutes late to the festival planning meeting, knocked over three chairs in your haste to find a seat, and now stood toe-to-toe with an inanimate object like it had personally offended your entire bloodline.

"I think you're supposed to lift the latch first," Jaehyun offered as he approached. His voice carried that familiar teasing lilt that made teachers simultaneously want to throttle him and nominate him for student of the year.

You whirled around, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and indignation. "I know how tables work, thank you very much."

"Do you, though?" He tilted his head, studying you with barely concealed amusement. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're losing."

The committee head, a stern-faced senior who treated festival planning like military strategy, cleared her throat pointedly. "As I was saying before the interruption, we need volunteers for setup crew. Since our newest member seems so... enthusiastic about furniture arrangement, she can assist Jaehyun with decorations."

Your mouth fell open in protest, but Jaehyun was already grinning, that infuriatingly smug expression that made your pulse quicken for reasons you refused to examine too closely.

"Looks like you're stuck with me, rookie."

The days into what you'd mentally dubbed "Festival Prep Hell," you'd learned several crucial facts about Myung Jaehyun :

First, he had an uncanny ability to appear whenever you were about to do anything remotely dangerous, stupid, or both. Second, his definition of "helping" involved a lot of commentary and very little actual assistance. Third, he had appointed himself your personal supervisor despite you never asking for, wanting, or needing one.

"You realize you're holding those scissors wrong," he observed from his perch on the art room windowsill, watching you cut paper streamers with the intensity of a nature documentarian studying an exotic species.

"I realize you're supposed to be helping instead of providing color commentary," you shot back, snipping another length of crepe paper with unnecessary force.

"I am helping. I'm preventing you from injuring yourself or others." He hopped down, sauntering over to peer at your work. "Besides, someone needs to make sure you eat. Speaking of which—"

He produced a triangle kimbap from his backpack, setting it on the desk beside your elbow with practiced ease. You'd stopped questioning where he acquired these snacks or why he'd decided feeding you was his responsibility. The alternative was admitting that his quiet attentiveness made your chest feel warm and fluttery, which was absolutely not happening.

"I'm not hungry," you lied, stomach choosing that exact moment to growl audibly.

"Uh-huh." Jaehyun's eyes crinkled with suppressed laughter. "And I'm not devastatingly handsome."

"Correct on both counts."

"Ouch." He pressed a hand to his heart in mock wounded. "You wound me, rookie. Here I am, generously sharing my food with an ungrateful underclassman—"

"Generously?" You finally looked up from your streamers, eyebrow raised. "You literally stole that from Sungho's lunch."

"Borrowed. There's a difference."

"The difference being that stealing implies you plan to return it?"

"Exactly." His grin widened. "See? You're learning."

Despite yourself, you found your lips twitching upward. This was the problem with Jaehyun, just when you'd worked up a proper head of indignation, he'd do or say something that made you want to laugh instead. It was infuriating and endearing in equal measure.

"Eat," he said, his voice gentler now. "You've been working for three hours straight."

"I'm fine."

"You're dead on your feet." Before you could protest, his hand was on your forehead, checking for fever with the casual intimacy of someone who'd been doing it for years instead of days. "When's the last time you slept? Not whatever you call that thing you do where you close your eyes for twenty minutes between assignments."

Heat crept up your neck at the contact, at the unexpected tenderness in his voice. "I sleep plenty."

"Rookie." The nickname sounded different this time, more affectionate than teasing. "You know you don't have to prove anything to anyone, right?"

Your hands stilled on the scissors. "I don't know what you mean."

"Sure you don't." He settled into the chair beside you, close enough that you could smell his cologne. "You've been running yourself ragged trying to show the committee you belong here. News flash : you already do."

"I'm a freshman who can't even set up a table correctly."

"You're a freshman who told the head of the planning committee that her colour scheme looked like a unicorn had a violent encounter with a rainbow." His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to say that?"

You ducked your head, fighting a smile. "It did look like that, though."

"It absolutely did. And you had the guts to say it." His finger hooked under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "That's not something to be ashamed of, rookie. That's something to be proud of."

The art room fell quiet except for the distant sounds of other students in the hallway. Jaehyun's thumb brushed across your cheek, when had he gotten so close?—and you forgot how to breathe properly.

"Besides," he continued, voice dropping to a murmur, "I happen to like chaos. Keeps things interesting."

"I'm not chaotic," you whispered. "I'm just... enthusiastic."

"Is that what we're calling it?" His eyes were warm, crinkled at the corners with genuine fondness. "In that case, I'm enthusiastic about you being enthusiastic."

Before you could process what he meant by that, he was pulling back, ruffling your hair with practiced ease. "Good job today, rookie. But next time, eat the kimbap when I give it to you, yeah?"

You watched him gather his things, movements unhurried and confident. At the door, he paused, glancing back with that familiar grin.

"Oh, and for the record? Tomorrow we're bribing the janitor to let us use the good ladder for hanging decorations. I've got hot packs and chocolate milk."

"You can't just bribe people to make your life easier!"

"Watch me."

He was gone before you could formulate a proper response, leaving you alone with your paper streamers and the lingering scent of his cologne. You touched your cheek where his thumb had been, heart hammering against your ribs.

Myung Jaehyun was going to be the death of you.

TAESAN ⋆⑅˚₊

˖➴ PAIRING : grumpy musician!taesan x sunshine class rep!reader

Every morning began the same : the classroom door sliding open at precisely 7:45am, followed by your sunshine-bright voice cutting through pre-class murmurs.

"Good morning, everyone! Good morning, Tae-Tae!"

And every morning, Dongmin, known to most as Taesan, would respond with the same carefully calibrated grunt, eyes never lifting from the composition in his worn music notebook.

Today was no different. You placed your bag down before making a deliberate detour to his back corner desk, where he sat with headphones covering one ear.

"Here's the chemistry handout you missed yesterday," you announced, placing the paper atop his notebook. "And the college application deadline got moved up, it's on the second page."

His response was a barely perceptible nod, fingers continuing to sketch musical notations.

Most students would have retreated. But three years as class representative had taught you to recognize the difference between genuine hostility and practiced indifference. With Dongmin, the distance was carefully constructed.

"There's a faculty meeting fourth period, so we're having study hall," you continued. "Perfect timing for that history essay due Friday. Which you haven't started yet, have you?"

His pencil paused. "How do you know what I have or haven't started?"

You smiled triumphantly. "You always touch your left ear when you're behind on assignments."

His hand jerked away from his ear where his fingers had been tugging at his earring. The betrayal of his unconscious gesture sparked annoyance across his features.

"Don't you have morning announcements to obsess over?"

"All prepared! I even included your band's show this weekend."

Surprise quickly disguised as indifference flickered on his face. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to. That's what friends do."

Before he could protest the label, you spun away, leaving him staring after you with bewildered frustration.

The cafeteria buzzed with lunchtime chaos when you spotted Dongmin at his usual corner table, guitar case beside him, music sheets spread as both creative outlet and social barrier.

You set your tray down across from him without asking permission.

"Not hungry again?" you asked, noticing his empty table.

He shrugged. "Forgot."

You sighed before producing a second lunch box from your bag. "Good thing I remembered for you."

His eyes narrowed. "You packed me lunch?"

"Just rice and kimchi. And those octopus sausages that were on sale." You pushed the container toward him. "Consider it payment for helping with the festival sound check."

"That was weeks ago."

"I'm very thorough with my debts."

He stared at the lunch box with frozen incomprehension before reluctantly pulling it towards himself.

"The vitamin C packet is in the side," you added. "You've been coughing since Tuesday."

"I don't need—"

"Just take it, Tae-Tae. Being grumpy is your personality, being sick is just inconvenient."

A passing classmate nearly stumbled at your audacity. Everyone knew Dongmin allowed only close friends to use his stage name Taesan. The diminutive "Tae-Tae" should have earned immediate banishment.

Yet somehow, you remained unexiled.

He unwrapped the chopsticks, mumbling what might have been "thank you."

When the bell rang, he had finished everything, even the vitamin drink.

"You didn't have to wait," he said, noticing you'd barely touched your own food while chatting.

You shrugged. "I like talking to you."

"Why?" The question escaped before he could contain it.

You tilted your head with unusual seriousness. "Because I think you're nice. Even if you pretend you're not."

The words hit him like an unexpected chord change. Emotions rippled through his features, confusion, denial, then fleeting tenderness that disappeared before you could place it.

He turned away abruptly. "You're delusional."

"Probably," you agreed cheerfully. "See you in math!"

As you walked away, you missed his fingers tracing the empty container's edge, or how his eyes followed you with an expression his bandmates would have recognized as panic.

Days later, you arrived at school with a slight fever and significantly less energy. Your morning greeting lacked volume, and you forgot the fire drill reminder.

During literature, you rested your head on your arms, closing eyes against too-bright fluorescent lights. When the lunch bell rang, you remained seated.

"You're sick."

You looked up to find Dongmin beside you, his perpetual frown deepened with suspicious concern.

"Just tired," you insisted.

"Your face is red. And you didn't harass me about the math assignment."

"You didn't turn in the—" You stopped, recognizing the trap. "You did turn it in."

His mouth twitched. "You're slipping, Class Rep."

He placed a bottle on your desk, cold green tea, your favourite brand.

"Drink this instead of that sugary coffee."

You stared at the bottle, then at him, uncharacteristically speechless.

"It's just tea," he muttered. "Don't make it weird."

"Did you... buy this for me?"

"You gave me vitamin C." He said it like the connection was obvious.

A smile spread across your face despite fatigue. "Tae-Tae, that's so sweet."

"Stop calling me that," he grumbled with notably less irritation.

"Never."

He sighed, resigned. "You should go home if you're sick."

"Can't. Student council meeting after school."

He observed you before reaching a decision. "Give me your phone."

Too tired to argue, you unlocked and handed it over. He typed quickly before returning it. On screen, you saw he'd added his contact information.

"Text me after your meeting. I'll walk you home."

Your eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"You'll probably pass out on the subway otherwise," he said defensively. "And then I'd have to listen to everyone talk about how the perfect class rep collapsed. It would be annoying."

"Can't have you annoyed," you agreed solemnly, though your smile betrayed understanding.

True to his word, Dongmin waited outside the student council room. When you emerged looking exhausted, he wordlessly took your backpack.

On the crowded train, he positioned himself beside you, one arm braced overhead, body angled to shield you from pressing commuters.

"This is my home," you said, stopping before your apartment building.

He returned your backpack. For a moment, he seemed on the verge of saying something, hands shoved in pockets.

"Thank you for walking me home."

"It's nothing," he responded, then reconsidered. "You should rest tomorrow. The class can survive one day without your excessive enthusiasm."

You smiled weakly. "Is that your grumpy way of saying you'd miss me?"

He scoffed but didn't deny it. "Just take care of yourself for once instead of everyone else."

You missed the next day, fever worsening. Your phone filled with messages from classmates, and among them, a single text from Dongmin : Did you eat?

You replied : Soup. You?

His response came quickly : Yes.

Then : The classroom is too quiet.

The admission warmed you more than your fever.

When you returned, you found a small package on your desk : throat lozenges, vitamin C, and a handwritten note with music recommendations labelled "Songs for Recovery."

You glanced at Dongmin, who sat pretending to read, ears betrayingly pink. When your eyes met, he quickly looked away, but not before you caught his relieved expression.

"Good morning, Tae-Tae," you called, voice still hoarse.

His response, though quiet, was distinctly more than his usual grunt :

"Morning."

As much as he'd hate to admit it, he'd been waiting for his sunshine to return.

LEEHAN ⋆⑅˚₊

˖➴ PAIRING : popular pretty boy!leehan x shy science nerd!reader

Kim Donghyun is the kind of beautiful that makes people stop mid-sentence when he walks into a room. All sharp jawlines and soft eyes, with an effortless grace that makes even the most mundane activities look like they belong in a magazine spread. So when Ms Chen announces that he's your lab partner for the semester-long marine biology project, you nearly choke on your own saliva.

"Looks like we're stuck with each other," he says, sliding into the seat next to you with that easy smile that's probably launched a thousand crushes. Up close, he's even more devastating, long lashes, perfect skin, the kind of natural beauty that should be illegal in high school settings.

You manage a squeaky "yeah" in response, already mentally preparing for a semester of doing all the work while he coasts by on his looks and charm. It's not fair to assume, but you've been burned by pretty partners before.

"So, marine ecosystems," Donghyun continues, pulling out a notebook that's surprisingly well-organized. "I was thinking we could focus on coral reef symbiosis? The relationship between clownfish and sea anemones is fascinating from both a biological and chemical perspective."

You blink at him, certain you've misheard. "You... want to study clownfish?"

"Well, the broader ecosystem, but yeah. Did you know that clownfish aren't actually immune to anemone stings? They build up immunity gradually by carefully exposing themselves to the mucus." His eyes light up as he talks, and there's genuine excitement in his voice that catches you completely off guard. "It's this incredible example of mutualistic symbiosis that most people think is just cute fish living in pretty flowers."

"You know about marine biology?"

He laughs, and the sound is warm and genuine. "I know I don't look like the type, but I've been obsessed with aquatic ecosystems since I was ten. I have three saltwater tanks at home and volunteer at the aquarium downtown on weekends."

This revelation is so far from what you expected that you actually stare at him for a moment. Kim Donghyun, who you've seen being voted for homecoming court and having lunch surrounded by the most popular kids in school, spends his free time cleaning fish tanks?

"That's... actually really cool," you admit, and his smile grows wider.

"Right? Most people think it's weird. My friends are always trying to drag me to parties when I'd rather be home watching my corydoras or reading about new conservation efforts." He leans forward conspiratorially. "Don't tell anyone, but I have names for all my fish. My runny nose tetra is called Professor Bubbles because he's very serious and intellectual-looking."

The giggle that escapes you is involuntary, and Donghyun's expression brightens like he's just won a prize.

"See, I knew you'd get it. You're always reading those marine conservation articles before class starts. I've been wanting to ask you about that paper on coral bleaching you were annotating last week."

"You noticed that?"

"I notice a lot of things, like how you light up during the ecology units, or how you always have the best questions during lab discussions. I was actually excited when Ms Chen paired us up."

Your brain struggles to process this information. Kim Donghyun, noticed you? Was excited to work with you? "But you could have anyone as a partner. People were literally volunteering to switch—"

"Why would I want to work with people who see this as an easy A when I could work with someone who actually cares about the subject?" He starts sketching out ideas for your project, his handwriting neat and precise. "Besides, I have a confession. I may know about marine life, but I'm terrible at the statistical analysis part. I was hoping you could help me with that side of things."

"You want my help?"

"Partnership means playing to each other's strengths, right?" He grins, and there's genuine warmth in it that makes your chest flutter. "I'll handle the biological research and species identification, you handle the data analysis and statistical modeling. Together we'll probably ace this thing."

Over the next few weeks, you discover that Donghyun is nothing like what you expected. He shows up to every study session with homemade flashcards and detailed notes, gets genuinely excited about discussing nitrogen cycles and pH levels, and has an encyclopedic knowledge of fish behaviour that rivals your textbooks.

He's also surprisingly goofy, making terrible fish puns that shouldn't be funny but somehow are, doing silly voices when he reads scientific papers aloud, and getting distracted by every aquarium they pass when you visit the marine centre for research.

"Oh my god, look at that parrotfish," he whispers during one of your field research trips, pressing close to the glass with the wonder of a five year old. "Look at those colours! And the way it's reorganizing the substrate—they're such meticulous little architects."

You find yourself watching him more than the fish, charmed by his unguarded enthusiasm. This is so different from the cool, collected version of himself he presents at school, and you realize you might be seeing the Kim Donghyun who cares more about marine conservation than maintaining his image.

"You're really passionate about this," you observe as he takes detailed notes on fish behavior patterns.

"My dream is to study marine biology in college, maybe work in conservation someday." He looks almost embarrassed by the admission. "I know it's not what people expect from me."

"Why do you care what people expect?"

The question seems to catch him off guard. He's quiet for a moment, watching a school of tropical fish swim in perfect synchronization. "I guess I've gotten used to being what people want me to be. The pretty face, the popular guy, the one who makes everything look effortless." He glances at you sideways. "But it's exhausting pretending you don't care about things just because it's not cool to be passionate."

"For what it's worth, I think passion is attractive. The way you talk about marine ecosystems... it's like watching you come alive."

Pink creeps across his cheeks, and he ducks his head with a shy smile that's entirely different from his usual confident grin. "Really?"

"Really. I've learned more from you in three weeks than I did in the entire first semester."

"Same here. You make the statistical analysis actually make sense instead of just being numbers on a page." He bumps your shoulder gently. "Plus, you're the only person who doesn't tune out when I start rambling about symbiotic relationships."

"I like your rambling."

"I like that you like it," he says quietly.

Two months into your partnership, you're not sure when exactly Donghyun stopped being your intimidatingly beautiful lab partner and became simply the boy who brings you coffee during long research sessions, who texts you pictures of his fish with increasingly ridiculous captions, who stays after class to debate conservation policies with the same intensity other guys bring to sports.

"We should celebrate," he says after you receive your project grades, an A+ with a note from Ms Chen praising your thorough research and innovative analysis.

"Celebrate how?"

"The aquarium is having a night dive program this weekend. Would you want to go? As partners in academic crime?" His smile is hopeful, nervous in a way that's endearingly human. "I promise I'll try to control my excitement about seeing nocturnal feeding behaviours."

"I'd love to," you say, and the way his face lights up makes you realize that you've fallen for Donghyun, not the popular pretty boy everyone else sees, but the passionate, goofy, genuine person he trusts you enough to be.

"Perfect. It's a date." He pauses, seeming to realize what he's said. "I mean, if you want it to be. A date, that is. It could just be a friendly educational outing between lab partners who happen to—"

"Donghyun."

"Yeah?"

"I'd love for it to be a date."

WOONHAK ⋆⑅˚₊

˖➴ PAIRING : protective basketball athlete!woonhak x transfer student!reader

Whispers stirred through homeroom like a breeze before a storm, and Ms Park’s usual monotone took on a rare edge of anticipation as she cleared her throat and said, “Class, please welcome our new transfer student.”

You stood beside her desk, clutching your schedule with white knuckles, eyes fixed on a mysterious scuff mark on the linoleum floor. The classroom felt cavernous, thirty pairs of eyes burning into you like searchlights.

"Would you like to introduce yourself?" Ms Park prompted gently.

You mumbled your name, hometown, and a forgettable fact about yourself before sliding into the only empty desk available.

That's when you felt a gaze so persistent it practically warmed your skin. You glanced up to find a boy with tousled dark hair and a smile that could power a small city staring directly at you. His uniform tie hung slightly crooked, but everything else about him radiated perfection.

He waved. At 8:17am in the morning. Who does that?

You offered a tentative half-smile before returning your attention to unpacking your notebook. But the intensity of his attention lingered like perfume.

When class ended, he materialized beside your desk with supernatural speed.

"I'm Woonhak," he announced, as if introducing a celebrity. "Kim Woonhak. I'm the class representative and captain of the basketball team." His enthusiasm bordered on excessive for this ungodly hour of morning. "You picked a great day to transfer, the cafeteria's serving tteokbokki today."

You blinked at him. "That's... useful information."

"I can show you around if you want. The school's layout makes zero sense."

“I think I can manage," you replied, but with less ice than intended.

Woonhak's smile never faltered. "Cool, cool. Offer stands. See you at lunch?"

Before you could respond that you hadn't agreed to any lunch plans, he'd bounced away to high-five someone across the room.

Your plan had been to eat alone, to blend into the scenery until you found your footing. But when you entered the cafeteria, Woonhak spotted you instantly as if he'd been watching the door, and waved with such vigor you worried he might dislocate something.

"Saved you a seat!" he called out, drawing attention from nearby tables.

You considered pretending not to hear him, but that would require explaining yourself tomorrow, which seemed more exhausting than just surrendering to his relentless friendliness.

"You didn't have to do that," you said, sliding onto the bench opposite him.

"I know." He pushed a small carton of banana milk towards you. "They always run out, so I grabbed an extra."

You stared at the carton, unsure how to process this random act of kindness. "Thanks."

Lunch with Woonhak meant meeting his entire social circle, which appeared to encompass half the student body. He introduced you to everyone who passed, pronouncing your name with such pride you'd think he'd invented it himself.

"How do you know so many people?" you asked when the parade of introductions finally paused.

He shrugged, mouth full of rice. After swallowing, he said, "I've lived in this neighbourhood my whole life. It's impossible not to know everyone eventually."

His popularity seemed effortless, yet he chose to spend lunch with the new girl. "You don't have to babysit me, you know."

His eyebrows shot up. "Babysit? Is that what you think this is?"

"I don't know what this is."

His expression softened. "This is me making a friend. Unless you'd rather be left alone? I can respect boundaries, my mom says I come on too strong sometimes."

The naked honesty in his voice disarmed you. "No, it's...fine. I'm just not used to people being so..."

"Charming? Devastatingly handsome?"

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile. "I was going to say 'persistent.'"

His laughter rang clear and genuine. "Fair enough."

Days blurred into weeks. Woonhak's morning greetings became as reliable as sunrise. He started walking you to classes even when they weren't on his route, claiming he "needed the exercise" despite his obviously athletic physique.

"Everyone's staring at us," you whispered as you entered the gymnasium where Woonhak's basketball team was practicing. You'd agreed, against better judgment, to watch.

"They're just not used to seeing me with such an intimidating person," he whispered back.

"Intimidating? Me?"

"Absolutely. You've got that mysterious transfer student aura. Very exclusive."

You snorted. "You're ridiculous."

"Part of my charm."

You settled on the bleachers while Woonhak jogged to join his teammates. Watching him transform from goofy hallway companion to focused athlete was fascinating. His movements became precise, calculated, as if he'd shed a layer of himself when stepping onto the court.

After practice, you waited by the gym doors, scrolling through your phone. You didn't notice the approach of three players until their shadows fell across your screen.

"You're the new girl, right?" The tallest one asked. His hair was still damp from the showers, his uniform shirt unbuttoned at the collar.

You nodded.

"I'm Minje. Team vice-captain." His smile carried confidence that bordered on arrogance. "We're heading to get bubble tea. Wanna join?"

Before you could answer, Woonhak appeared beside you, gym bag slung over his shoulder. His usual smile seemed different, tight around the edges.

"She can't," he said, voice unusually firm. "We have plans."

Minje's eyebrows rose. "Do you? Or are you just saying that?"

"We're working on her literature assignment," Woonhak replied smoothly, though this was news to you.

"I didn't know you two were so... close," Minje said, looking between you with renewed interest.

"We're not—" you began.

"Running late," Woonhak interrupted, gently tugging your sleeve. "See you guys tomorrow."

Once outside, you pulled your arm free. "What was that about? We don't have plans."

His cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry. Those guys are my friends, but they can be... I just thought you might not want to..."

Understanding dawned. "Are you jealous?"

"What? No! I'm just..." He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. "Protective."

"I don't need protection, Woonhak."

"I know that." His voice softened. "Trust me, I know how capable you are. But Minje collects phone numbers like Pokémon cards.”

"We could get bubble tea," you suggested. "If you want."

His face brightened immediately. "Really?"

"Don't make a big deal about it."

"I would never," he said, already bouncing slightly on his toes. "Except it is kind of a big deal because this is the first time you've initiated plans with me, which means you officially consider me a friend now, which is a significant milestone in our—"

"I'm rethinking this already."

He laughed, falling into step beside you. "No take-backs."

@coriihanniee 💌

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